


The Lament of a Daughter

by Sareki



Series: Canon Consistent P/T Universe [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sareki/pseuds/Sareki
Summary: After receiving an unexpected letter from the Alpha Quadrant, B’Elanna recalls her last months with her mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I’ve been trying to write for two years, but finally a conversation with CaptAcorn gave me what I needed to fit all the pieces together. The most special thanks goes to her for holding my hand while I wrote this and for reading it over and over… Thanks also to RSB for help in the early stages of this story, and to Delwin and Photogirl1890 for reading the final drafts. 
> 
> This story is complete and I will be posting a new chapter every couple of days (there are twenty in total). As always, feedback is adored!

**June 2377**

 

B’Elanna’s eyes fluttered open, a dimly lit sickbay materializing before her. _Sickbay?_ She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear the fog from her head. The clatter of metal hitting metal came from her right -- the surgical bay. B’Elanna slowly rolled onto her side, her muscles screaming at her motions. _Fuck, what happened to me?_

On her side, B’Elanna pushed herself onto her elbow – grimacing as pain shot down her back – so she could see the surgical bay. A glint of light reflected off a pale, bald head – the Doctor – as he bent over his patient. He began to hum as he worked; B’Elanna only knew the song as one that the Doctor often sang. Something about sunshine.

The tune was interrupted by a grunt and a plop as something was discarded from the patient – something that looked Borg.

 _The mission…_   Memories from the past couple days flooded her mind. Fighting hand to hand with a Borg drone. The pain of the injection tubules piercing her skin. Standing in the Borg cube, catching the reflection of her bald head, metal implant protruding from her skull. Dropping to her knees in the transporter room, the Doctor rushing towards her…

“B’Elanna?”

She jerked her head toward the sound of the captain’s voice – a move that caused pain to lance through her. Easing herself back onto the biobed, B’Elanna gently rolled onto her left side. B’Elanna couldn’t see her face, but assumed the blanket covered legs protruding from the barrier separating the beds belonged to Janeway.

“Yes,” B’Elanna rasped. _Fuck, that vocal subprocessor did a number on my voice…_

“How do you feel?” B’Elanna was sure that, if she could, Janeway would be placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she spoke.

“Like shit.” _Did I just say that out loud? To the_ captain _?_

Janeway laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

The Doctor’s humming permeated the silence that followed. _If the captain is there, and I’m here…_ That left only one likely candidate as the patient in the surgical bay. “Tuvok?” B’Elanna asked.

“The Doctor’s still working on him. He…” Janeway paused. “He was in worse shape than us.”

B’Elanna swallowed – and immediately regretted it as pain seared her throat. “Is Tom helping?”

“He was. The Doctor told me he went to take a nap about five hours ago. He should be back anytime now.”

B’Elanna felt the urge to wake him up – to let him know she was okay -- but immediately dismissed it. If he’d left Tuvok in the middle of surgery, he must have been exhausted. “How long…?”

“It’s been two days.”

B’Elanna took a breath and closed her eyes. She’d known that having the Borg technology removed wouldn’t be trivial, but two days? How many of those hours had Tom been awake, performing surgeries on the three of them. _I’ll let him sleep,_ she thought, her eyelids growing heavy. _We could all use some rest…_

The whine of a tricorder roused B’Elanna. _Why does he set the volume on those things so loud?_ About to give the Doctor a piece of her mind, B’Elanna opened her eyes – to see Tom.

“Hey.” He set the tricorder aside, taking her hand in his.

“Hey, yourself.” She looked down at their intertwined fingers, the colors alternating from his pink to her olive.

“How you feeling?”

“Not bad for someone,” she paused, allowing the pain in her throat to subside for a moment, “who was recently Borg.”

Tom chuckled. “Well, that’s a pretty low bar.” He brought his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. “Are you in any pain?”

“My throat is sore,” she replied, knowing that Tom wanted to do something – anything – to help her. Not to mention it was really fucking annoying.

“That’s from the vocal subprocessor. It did a number on your larynx.” Tom turned away and loaded a hypospray. “This should help.”

B’Elanna felt the cool touch of the instrument against her neck, followed by the hiss of the injection. “Better?” Tom asked.

B’Elanna swallowed, finding it less horrific. “Yes.” A corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “Thanks.”

“You sound better, too.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand again. A moment passed as his blue eyes focused on her, his face slowly falling from a smile to a frown. With a sigh, he leaned forward and grabbed a PADD off the table next to her bed.

“What’s that?” B’Elanna asked, trying to get a view of the text.

He squeezed her hand a little tighter. “How are you feeling?”

“You already asked me that.” B’Elanna looked Tom over. His brow was knit with concern, and his lips were pursed. “Are you okay? Is Harry okay?”

“We’re fine.” Tom grimaced… as though not _everyone_ was fine. _Oh god…_ “Chakotay?”

Tom shook his head. “B’Elanna, he’s fine, too.” Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek and whispered. “Everyone on _Voyager_ is fine.” Continuing to stroke her hair, he pulled back. “I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you. But I wanted to give you the opportunity to respond and the data stream goes out in just a couple hours.”

The data stream? Why would she need to ‘respond’ to something that happened in the Alpha Quadrant? Unless… Panic surged through B’Elanna. Had they made a ruling on the Maquis? Was she going to have to spend the rest of the trip home in the brig? … Or worse? “What happened?”

Tom trained his eyes on the floor. “Remember how last month we asked my parents if they could find out anything about your mom?”

B’Elanna blinked, switching gears from anxiety over the fate of the Maquis to dread about her mother. _A chance to respond…_ Did that mean she was alive? B’Elanna looked back at Tom, and instantly knew from the expression on his face. “She’s dead.”

Tom swallowed, giving her a nod. “I’m so sorry.”

“How long?” B’Elanna cut in, blinking and looking away from Tom. _You knew this. You saw her on the Barge of the Dead._

“Two years.”

B’Elanna did the math. It didn’t line up with when she’d seen her mother in the afterlife, but that didn’t matter. She doubted the hereafter adhered to a linear timeline. “How?”

“She was at a conference on Betazed when it fell to the Dominion.”

B’Elanna felt tears welling in her eyes. She turned away from Tom. “Thank your parents for me,” she whispered.

“B’Elanna…” Tom’s hand was on her back, tracing out large circles.

She took a deep breath, holding in the tears. “I’m okay.” She faced him again. “I suspected. It’s fine. I’ve already dealt with this.”

“Well, just let me know if there is something I can do.”

B’Elanna tried to give him a convincing smile. “I will.” She searched for a way to change the subject, something to distract Tom… and herself. “I see you didn’t lose your pip while I was gone.” She nodded towards the collar of his uniform and waited to see if he’d play along – if he’d allow her to force a lighter mood.

When he chuckled, B’Elanna nearly let out a sigh of relief. “I was actually promoted to first officer in your absence,” he said, puffing out his chest in mock pride.

“Oh?” B’Elanna raised her eyebrows. “Do I have to call you ‘sir’ now?”

“Only in bed,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“The captain’s right there!” B’Elanna hissed, smacking his arm.

“She’s asleep.” He flashed her that dumb grin he got when he thought he was oh-so-clever.

B’Elanna snorted and rolled onto her side, she curled her body around him, lightly tracing patterns on his thigh. “Tell me what happened while I was gone.”

“Well,” Tom began, and B’Elanna closed her eyes.

* * *

“All right, so you have water, some snacks, the remote control for the TV… is there anything else you need?” Tom asked as he tucked the blanket around her feet.

B’Elanna kicked, shooing him away. “I’m not an invalid,” she grumbled, leaning over to grab her computer from the coffee table. True, she’d leaned on him heavily as they’d walked from Sickbay – the lingering effects of nerve damage from the clamp the Borg had put on her spinal cord – but now that she was seated on the couch, she was feeling fine.

“I never said you were. But I’m up at the moment, so… is there anything else you need?”

B’Elanna shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable, but the armrest was jabbing into her back. _Well, if it will make him feel useful…_  B’Elanna glanced over at the bed. “My pillow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Tom walked away, B’Elanna opened her messages and started scrolling through them. There were hundreds of them.

“So, you’re sure you’ll be okay without me?” Tom called from the bed.

“Didn’t we just go over me not being an invalid?”

Tom returned the couch as B’Elanna was opening Carey’s repair schedule. Thrusters, shields, deflector dish… there was hardly a system left unscathed.

A ball of fur appeared on her shoulder, and B’Elanna turned to find herself staring into a pair of dark, glassy eyes. Looking up, she saw Tom grinning, holding Toby against her. “He missed you.” B’Elanna snatched the stuffed targ from his hand and stuffed him between her leg and the cushion.

“Is that so?” B’Elanna leaned forward so Tom could place the pillow behind her back.

“It is. He told me.” Tom placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Okay, I have to go. But you’ll call me or the Doctor if you start feeling worse?”

“Yeah,” B’Elanna replied, distracted again by Carey’s message.

“Hey.” He reached down, placing a hand on her cheek.

B’Elanna looked up from her terminal. There were still deep creases on Tom’s forehead and dark circles under his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured.

B’Elanna could see the fear behind his gaze – the fear at having nearly lost her. She swallowed, and pushed away a surge of guilt for having done this to him. She reached up and grabbed the front of his uniform, bringing him close for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

Tom smirked as they broke. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, as B’Elanna’s hand fell away.

“Bye.” B’Elanna watched as he left, disappearing into the bright light of the corridor as the doors slid shut behind him. Turning her attention back to the terminal, she sent a quick response to Carey before continuing to scan through her messages. Damage report after damage report... _I should go down to Engineering -- just to check in_. She swung her legs off the couch and tried to rise – but a shooting pain in her back, followed by a wave of vertigo, stopped her short. _Or maybe I’ll just stay right here_ … she thought, dropping back onto the couch, clenching her eyes shut, and taking several deep breaths.

Once the world had stopped spinning, B’Elanna returned her attention to the computer and started scrolling again, looking at the subject headings and trying to get a handle on who was doing what. As she made her way through the long list of messages, one name stopped her short… a name she hadn’t thought about in years: Dar’Rok, son of Ma’Leth.

Since they’d begun receiving messages from the Alpha Quadrant, B’Elanna hadn’t received a letter – nor had she expected to. And even if she were to get one, her mother’s brother would not be top of the list of people she thought she _might_ hear from.

 _This must be about Mom_ , she thought as she stared at the message. A part of her wanted to keep scrolling, to not deal with whatever her uncle felt honor bound to tell her. But she found herself opening the message anyway.

Klingon characters filled her screen, and B’Elanna groaned, wondering if she should translate it or try to read it in the original form. Deciding she didn’t want to deal with it, she quickly transformed the text into Federation Standard.

**_To B’Elanna, daughter of Miral,_ **

**_I was contacted by Starfleet Command and informed that we could now communicate with you on a regular basis. It is my honor bound duty to inform you why Starfleet contacted me rather than your mother: Miral died two years ago during the Battle of Betazed. Her colleague that survived informed me that she fought valiantly, killing many Jem’Hadar before falling. Her place in_ Sto’Vo’Kor _is assured._**

_Not as assured as you may think…_ B’Elanna gnawed on her lip. _But I got her there, eventually._

**_Starfleet notified your mother that you were alive before she passed._ **

_Mom heard from Starfleet back when we sent the Doctor to the Alpha Quadrant?_

**_They told her they would be sending letters to your crew and asked her if she wanted to write one to you. Miral sent one, but I have been informed it did not reach you._ **

B’Elanna stopped short. Her mother’s letter had been one of those lost when the Hirogen array imploded? Her gut tightened as her mind flashed back to that day in Astrometrics. When she had been downloading those letters, she’d never imagined that she’d see one from either of her parents. But… her mom had actually sent one?

Tears began to well in her eyes. What had it said? Had Miral been mad? What did Miral know of her life on _Voyager_? Would she have finally been proud? Blinking, B’Elanna turned back to her uncle’s message.

**_I found a copy of the letter in your mother’s personal effects. I’ve attached it here._ **

B’Elanna’s mouth went dry. Her uncle had just sent her a letter from her dead mother? She had the last words her mother would ever say to her in her hands?

**_Krel’Tah and I look forward to hearing of your glorious deeds in the Delta Quadrant._ **

**_Qapla', daughter of Miral,_ **

**_Your 'IrneH_ **

B’Elanna took several deep breaths and stared at the attachment. She looked up and the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest.

_“Get out of my sight.”_

The last words Miral had spoken to B’Elanna in life bounced around in her head. She could hear the venom in her mother’s voice, feel her stomach turning just like it had on that day. B’Elanna squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the resurgence of memories from eleven years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 2365**

_How hard is it to walk off a goddamn ship?_ B’Elanna Torres raised herself up on her toes and tried to see down the narrow corridor, but the broad back of a Klingon man was all that met her eyes. She wanted to shove past him – get off this slow-moving ship she’d been trapped on for the last four days – but glancing around, she saw that everyone was queueing in an orderly fashion, humans and Klingons alike.

So, she waited, letting out long sighs as she tapped her foot.

The slow, luggage-burdened throng moved out of the ship and into the spaceport at Qam’Chee, the capital city of Qo’noS. The moment the blast of terminal air hit B’Elanna, she immediately wanted to retreat into the climate controlled ship. As the crowd pushed her towards the immigration station, sweat beaded on her brow and she could feel her hair frizzing.

Now in yet another queue, she set down her heavy duffle and stripped off her jacket, stuffing the garment into the bag. She most likely wouldn’t be needing that for the duration of her stay. Digging into her pocket, B’Elanna found a hair tie and pulled her shoulder length (and definitely frizzing) dark brown hair into a high ponytail, feeling a bit of relief as the mass was separated from her now sticky neck. The line moved, and B’Elanna nudged her bag with her feet across the stone floor. Behind her, a child was screaming, evidently enjoying Qo’noS as much as she was.

Finally, at the head of the queue, B’Elanna hoisted her bag back on her shoulder and, once called, moved to the immigration station.

A dark-skinned woman, dressed in the typical garb of a warrior, sat behind a high counter. She had the forehead of someone from the southern continent, a set of high central ridges that looked like a mountain range to B’Elanna. B’Elanna wondered if this, or her family’s flatter, more ‘V’ shaped ridges, was what Klingons considered attractive. _Either way, one thing was for sure_ , B’Elanna mused as the officer’s dark eyes looked at her soft cranial ridges with an air of disdain, _my forehead isn’t going to win me any Klingon beauty pageants_. “Papers?” the woman asked in Federation Standard.

B’Elanna dropped her bag onto the floor and pulled her Klingon identification card from her pocket, placing it on the counter. The officer didn’t try to hide her surprise. “You’re a citizen of the Empire?” she questioned, now in Klingon.

“Yes, I am,” B’Elanna replied in their _lingua franca_ – although from the expression on the other woman’s face, B’Elanna suspected she was not impressed with B’Elanna’s accent. Not willing to let the woman treat her differently than any other citizen, she continued. “That’s what my papers say, don’t they?”

The woman raised an eyebrow as she scanned B’Elanna’s credentials into the computer. “It says you have not been in the Empire for five years. Why are you here now?”

 _Because I’m a failure that couldn’t hack it at the Academy._ “I’m coming to live in my grandfather’s house, with my mother – Miral, daughter of L’Naan.”

The woman glanced at the terminal. “Where have you been the last five years?”

“What?” Had she heard correctly? Did this woman want her to list everywhere she’d been for the last five years?

The officer scowled. “Where did you reside?” she repeated in Standard. 

 _Oh, come on, my Klingon isn’t_ that _bad._ Not willing to give in, B’Elanna continued in Klingon, trying to mask her accent as much as possible. “I lived on Kessik IV until two years ago, when I moved to Earth. And now I’m moving here.”

The woman typed the information into B’Elanna’s record. “Your house?”

“Ma’Leth.”

“Give me your new address.”

Miral had told B’Elanna the officials would ask. “Ma’Leth compound, K’Tet district, Qam’Chee.”

The woman entered the information into her terminal and handed B’Elanna back her credential. “Go,” the woman said, then looked over B’Elanna’s shoulder and called out, “Next!”

B’Elanna grabbed her bag and moved further into the crowded terminal. Large windows lit the high-ceilinged space, which seemed to be a large holding room. Travelers milled about or rushed into one of the dim hallways that branched out from this main room. B’Elanna stopped, trying to get her bearings, when someone smacked into her. She stumbled, but caught herself, looking up to see a warrior who must have been two and a quarter meters tall. A warrior that smelled like he’d just left the battlefield. “Watch yourself, _Hur'q_!” he bellowed, before heading off to one of the side corridors.

 _Watch_ myself _?_ B’Elanna thought as she glared at the man’s back. “Fuck you, asshole,” she muttered in Standard… a bit louder than she’d intended. Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined the man confronting her over her words. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to hear or understand.

Taking a breath, B’Elanna moved forward again, trying to make her way through the sea of people. The ship she’d traveled from Earth on had carried an even split of Klingons and Federation citizens. Not that B’Elanna had socialized much on the trip; she’d only left her small room when she had to eat or use the facilities. But as she moved further from the immigration station, the percentage of Klingons went to nearly one hundred. A cacophony of noise assaulted her as men and women laughed, talked, -- hell, did everything – loudly. They even seemed to walk loudly, hulking across the hard ground, the thudding of their boots adding to the overwhelming din.

Looking around for a sign – "Meet me at Gathering Area Four," her mother had said – B’Elanna couldn’t help but feel incredibly small as the crowd swirled around her. She remembered feeling this way when she was young -- when she and her mom would visit the home world -- but she’d written this off to being a child. But now… she was just small. At one hundred and sixty-five centimeters and just under sixty kilos, she was sure almost every Klingon here could bench press her – even some of the children.

Spotting a sign, she hurried towards it, thankful that it was written in Standard as well as Klingon. (She could speak and understand reasonably well, but reading was a whole other can of worms – or can of _gagh_ , as it were.) The hallway she needed was to the left, right after the food court.

B’Elanna attempted to hold her breath as she walked past the fragrant stalls, each displaying a food that was more horrifying than the last. Halfway through she had to take in another breath and gagged from the smell of stale fish and rancid meat. _Is this really where I’m going to live?_

Finally through the food court gauntlet (although not completely away from the smell), B’Elanna walked through a narrow hallway. The tunnel echoed with the voices and footfalls of her fellow travelers, and for a moment, B’Elanna wished she was still in her quiet, climate-controlled dorm room at the Academy. The hallway opened into another room, one filled with benches and a sign: Gathering Area Four.

“B’Elanna!” Though the voice was not her mother’s, B’Elanna instantly recognized it.

“ _VavnI’_!” B’Elanna headed towards the bench her grandfather, Ma’Leth son of Markek, was rising from. He was a small man (for a Klingon), barely reaching one hundred and eighty-five centimeters, with wavy grey hair hung far past his shoulders. His skin was almost milky white – having been sheltered in his kitchens from the harsh sun. “I thought Mom was going to meet me.”

“She had to work, so you get me instead. Disappointed?” the large man said, his smile reaching his light blue eyes as he wrapped B’Elanna into a tight hug. Pressing her face against his barrel chest, she let his familiar scent fill her nose, one of old leather and a fragrant, earthy soap. _I guess not all Klingons smell bad_ , she thought as she closed her eyes and leaned against the old man.

But why had her mother not come? Was _she_ the one that was disappointed? Was B’Elanna leaving the Academy the final straw in their tenuous mother-daughter relationship? _Fuck, this is getting off to a_ great _start…_

“I’m not disappointed,” B’Elanna half-lied once her grandfather let her go. “I just wondered.”

“It was unexpected.” Ma’Leth took B’Elanna’s bag from her shoulder despite her protest. “There was a problem at work that Miral had to attend to, but she will be home in time for the welcome feast your aunt and uncle are preparing. Come now. I’m sure you’re tired after your trip. What is it, five days?”

“Four.”

“Oh. Perhaps they go faster than they used to. When your grandmother, may she find honor in _Sto’Vo’Kor_ , and I visited Earth, many years ago, it was five days. I was so relieved to finally get off that transport and get my first lungful of Qam’Chee air.”

 _Relieved? To be here?_ B’Elanna thought as they headed towards the door.

Ma’Leth paused as they stepped outside, giving B’Elanna a concerned look. “It’s a bit cold today. Are you okay dressed like that?”

B’Elanna, already dripping with sweat, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’ll manage.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Lanna, wake up.”

B’Elanna’s eyes snapped open. She found herself staring at a grey stone wall and the PADD she’d propped up against it – the screen black from disuse. Rolling onto her back, the stuffed targ that was nestled in the crook of her arm fell away. She turned her head and saw Miral messing with the portable climate control unit that B’Elanna’s grandfather had placed in the room. The steady stream of cool air that had made the afternoon tolerable dwindled at Miral’s touch.

“Why are you turning that down? It’s miserable here.”

“You’re wasting energy. You’ll need to adapt to the climate; the heat will only get worse.”

“Fantastic,” B’Elanna muttered as she sat up. “Can’t wait.”

“No one made you come here, B’Elanna. It was your choice.”

“I had somewhere else to go?”

“You could have gone anywhere in the Federation -- or the Empire. But _you_ chose to come live here, and now _you_ must adapt.” When B’Elanna didn’t respond, Miral let out a rather human sigh and moved to sit at the foot of B’Elanna’s bed. “How was your journey?”

B’Elanna continued to not meet her mother’s eyes, picking up Toby the Targ from his place next to her on the bed and tugging at his brown fur. “Uneventful. _VavnI’_ was waiting for me when I got off the transport.”

B’Elanna felt her mother’s hand rest on her bare foot. “I’m glad you arrived without any issues. And I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you. There was an emergency at work.”

“It’s okay.” B’Elanna drew her knees up to her chest, her foot slipping away from Miral’s hand. She looked up at her mother. “ _VavnI’_ explained.”

It had been a year and a half since B’Elanna had seen her mother in person – the day they’d both left their home on Kessik for the final time – and she couldn’t help but think her mother looked older. Was her auburn hair tinged with more grey? Had additional lines appeared around her blue eyes and thin lips – or had she just lost weight?

Miral looked around the room. “I see your grandfather provided all the comforts you’d need.”

 _You mean a mattress pad and a climate control unit? It’s the height of luxury in here._ “Yeah.”

“It is good. Even I had trouble getting used to the Klingon bed after so many years sleeping human style. You would never adjust.”

“Because I’m too human?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. _God, why do I turn everything into a fucking fight?_

Miral didn’t take the bait – this time. Her voice even, she replied, “Yes. And because I raised you in their ways.” Miral reached over and plucked Toby from B’Elanna’s hands. “You still sleep with him? I would have thought going to the Academy would have broken you of that.”

B’Elanna fought the urge to snatch Toby back. “I guess it’s just another human trait I have.”

Miral raised her eyebrows. “Other students still slept with their childhood toys?”

 _No... Like with so many things, I was the only one._ “Some did.” The lie rolled easily from B’Elanna’s tongue.

“Hmph.” Miral stood, placing Toby down on the foot of the bed. B’Elanna reached for him, stuffing him under her pillow -- as she had done every morning at the Academy.

B’Elanna turned back to her mother, who was investigating the rest of the room, not that there was much to see. B’Elanna had only brought a small duffle, primarily full of clothes, most of which she would never be able to wear in the heat of Qam’Chee. The room was furnished sparsely: a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. Miral was standing next to the desk now, looking at the two holophotos B’Elanna had placed there.

“Would you like to make a shrine for _Abuela_?” Miral asked, having picked up one of the two – a photo of a young B’Elanna with her paternal grandmother during one of her many summer visits. B’Elanna had always marveled at how much she looked like Isela; their dark eyes, olive skin, and full lips were almost an exact match. Of course, B’Elanna’s forehead ridges were enough to distract most people from noticing the similarities.  

“A shrine? Here?” B’Elanna asked, wondering what would have made her mother think of such a thing. “She has a memorial on Earth.”

Miral set back down the picture. “But you are no longer on Earth, and you should have a place to honor her spirit.”

B’Elanna looked down, her fingers itching to grab Toby again. It had been nine months since her grandmother had passed, after a short battle with Irumodic syndrome. She’d been diagnosed the summer before B’Elanna had started the Academy. B’Elanna had been crushed – she’d imagined her time at the Academy would be interspersed by dinners with her grandmother, who would now be a short transporter trip away rather than nearly a week by ship. But as B’Elanna had read about the condition – how _Abuela_ would deteriorate into confusion and delusions – she knew her imaginings would not come to fruition.

Over the fall semester, Isela hadn’t been that different from what B’Elanna remembered. Her short-term memory wasn’t what it once had been, but she and B’Elanna could still have long talks about school and science over dinner – and she could still make B’Elanna pancakes in the morning.

Then came Christmas. Uncle Carl and his family had gone home, and B’Elanna had settled in next to the holo-fire, _coquito_ in one hand, rearranging the Nativity with the other. As she was lining up the Wise Men according to height, B’Elanna heard her grandmother’s footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor.

“You know,” Isela said, settling into her chair, _coquito_ and another helping of _arroz con dulce_ in hand, “when I was young we would go to _Catedral de San Juan Bautista_ , just like my mother did as a child, for the midnight mass.” She chuckled. “My brother and I were always so tired by then, having stuffed ourselves at dinner and then eaten all the sweets we could get our hands on.” A smile graced her face as she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. “Papa would have to carry us out of the cathedral more times than not. I miss those days.” Her eyes opened, and she looked at B’Elanna, who still had a Wise Man in her hand. “B’Elanna’s always loved that Nativity. I should make a note that she’s to have it when I’m gone.”

B’Elanna blinked at her grandmother’s phrasing. Before her thoughts could coalesce into a question, Isela continued, “Do you think she’d like it, Miral? Do you decorate the house?”

“ _Abuela_ ,” B’Elanna stammered. “I’m not Miral. I’m B’Elanna.”

Isela’s dark eyes focused for a moment. "Oh, that's right." She took another sip of her _coquito_ before looking back at B'Elanna, a slightly dazed expression on the older woman's face. “I’d understand if you didn’t want to decorate for a human holiday… it must be a reminder of John.”

B’Elanna’s mouth opened and closed, trying to formulate words. Why had she just said “John” rather than “your father”?

Isela continued. “I get so mad when I think about what he did to you – and B’Elanna. I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I thought I’d raised him better than that.”

“ _Abuela…_ ” B’Elanna rose from her chair, her legs shaky, and crossed the room to kneel before her grandmother. Taking her shoulders in her hands, B’Elanna looked her grandmother in the eye. “ _Abuela_ , I’m B’Elanna.”

The woman’s eyes focused on B’Elanna’s face. “I…” she paused before closing her eyes tight. She reached up, her bony hand grasping B’Elanna’s. “ _Mija_ , I don’t feel well. Can you call for Randy for me?”

After alerting her grandmother’s caregiver, B’Elanna slipped out and returned to her dorm, trying to make sense of the evening’s events. _Everything will be fine in the morning,_ she told herself as she tossed and turned in bed. _We’ll celebrate Christmas and_ Abuela _will be back to normal._

B’Elanna woke to her PADD beeping – Isela had gotten worse overnight and had to be taken to the hospital. Evidently alcohol and her medication didn’t mix.

It had been downhill from there. Within a month, Isela retreated into her own world, one where children became their parents and the care facility was Isela’s longtime workspace – the laboratory in which she’d spent her younger years. At first B’Elanna had seen her grandmother often, but the hours of sitting with a person who wasn’t really there took their toll. The frequency of her visits diminished.

The following March, B’Elanna was standing on a green hillside, watching as her uncle spread her grandmother’s ashes under the oak tree where they’d done the same for her grandfather, fifteen years prior.

B’Elanna looked back over at Miral, who still held the photograph. “It’s okay, I don’t need a shrine.”

“The dead must be honored.”

Stupid Klingon myths, thinking that the dead were in a magical afterlife. They weren’t. They were just dead. She’d never see _Abuela_ again, never sit in her kitchen while the woman cooked. Never get another hug and kiss. Never hear her say, “ _Mija,_ I love you” again. She was gone.

B’Elanna swallowed away the knot in her throat and turned her grief to apathy. “I’ll be sure to include her in my Plea for the Dead.”

“Do not mock such things,” Miral snapped as she set down the picture.

B’Elanna knew she’d crossed the line. She looked away, crossing her arms. “Sorry.”

Miral huffed as her attention turned to the other photo on the desk. “Where did you get this?”

B’Elanna had wondered what Miral’s reaction to that one would be. After John had left, Miral had purged the house of reminders of him. In the picture, a three-year-old B’Elanna sat with her parents in a park.

“It was at _Abuela’s_ house. Uncle Carl asked if I wanted it after she died.” B’Elanna tucked her hair behind her ear. She recalled staring at it on the mantel, as other members of the family packed up the house around her. It was the sheer normality of the picture that had surprised her. She could scarcely believe there had been a time when they were a proper family. When her father had wrapped his arm around her smiling mother. When everyone was happy.

Miral was still staring at the photo, as though reliving the memory of the day the photo was snapped. “Did you see him?”

B’Elanna shook her head. _He wants as little to do with me as he does with you…_ “He didn’t even come to the funeral.”

Miral tore her gaze away from the photo. “He has no honor.”

B’Elanna crossed her arms tight across her chest. Her mother was right – her father didn’t have any honor. What kind of child doesn’t show up for their own mother’s funeral? But the fact that it was true didn’t make Miral’s words sting any less. “I guess. What time is dinner?”

“We are expected in twenty minutes – that’s why I woke you.”

B’Elanna let out a long sigh. Dinner with her very loud extended family – the perfect cap to this day. “Then I guess I should get ready.”

* * *

“The _qa'Da'_ lunged, but I swept his front legs out from under him,” the gruff voice boomed from the man at the head of the table. His light skin glinted in the candlelight of the dimly lit dining hall as he pantomimed his story. “The beast, on the ground, tried to rise again, but I drove my _gin'tak_ through its neck. Blood gushed from the fatal wound, but the beast would not relent. I dove on him and thrust my fingers into his eyes as he bucked. I held on.” His dark hair fell over his shoulders as he showed the audience exactly how he’d subdued the beast. Significantly smaller than the animal in question, it was an impressive feat. “In time his throws subsided. This _qa’Da’_ was a worthy opponent, and so I’ve brought him to the table for this feast to welcome my niece home.”

Dar’Rok gestured to B’Elanna, who was sitting at his left. Blood rushed to her face as the assembled family turned their attention to her.

 _Fuck, am I supposed to say something? Is there a ritual here? Why the hell didn’t Mom warn me?!_ B’Elanna slowly rose, the combination of the heat, food smells, and panic causing her head to spin. Wiping her sweaty palms on her dress, she took a deep breath and looked up and down the long table at her family. All five of her cousins – along with various mates and children – had assembled in her aunt and uncle’s hall. She noted how everyone was dressed in heavy leather, wool, and fur; a stark contrast to the airy, cream colored dress B’Elanna had donned for the occasion. _Just pretend to be a Klingon… a Klingon in a sundress._

“I’m honored to be here tonight and honored that you have put together such a fine meal for me. I’m…” _God, what else do Klingons say other than honor?_ B’Elanna’s mind raced as her eyes darted around the room, trying to drudge up something appropriate for the moment. Finally, her eyes landed on her grandfather. He gave her a reassuring smile… the kind that made B’Elanna think that maybe she wasn’t completely embarrassing herself. Clearing her throat, B’Elanna stood a little taller. “I’m glad to be here.”

Sitting down, B’Elanna hoped that was the end of it.

Her uncle cleared his throat, dashing her hopes. “B’Elanna, it’s your right to take the first portion of _qa’Da_ ’”

 _Oh no._ She looked at the animal on the table. It had been skinned and gutted, but it didn’t look like it had been cooked. That didn’t surprise B’Elanna, her mother’s people weren’t the biggest fans of denaturing proteins with heat. Trying not to look disgusted, B’Elanna turned to her uncle and replied, “Thank you. I’m honored.” _Stop saying honored!_

Using her fingers – because why in the world would Klingons have ever thought to invent silverware? – B’Elanna took as small of a portion as she thought she could get away with and put it on her plate. Sitting back down, she looked up to see the still expectant faces staring at her. _Would it have been too much to provide me with a script for tonight?_

“Eat some and declare its worth,” Miral whispered from her place next to B’Elanna.

 _Oh, now you help. Thanks._ B’Elanna took a bite of the uncooked meat, trying to make a pleasant face. “It’s good…” B’Elanna ventured, hoping that would be declaration enough.

It was. The family burst out in cheers, wine mugs slamming against the table and feet thumping on the stone floor, before diving into the feast. In the fray, Miral slid the _qa’Da’_ meat off B’Elanna’s plate and onto her own. “Don’t eat anymore uncooked meats. They may make you sick.”

“I know. I didn’t even want to eat _that_ meat.”

“That is why I told Dar’Rok that we should forgo this part of the feast.”

B’Elanna’s jaw went slack. Her mother had tried to stop this? “Then why are we doing it?”

“I didn’t know until we got here that I had been unsuccessful in stopping it.” Miral stood and grabbed a bowl of tubers from further down the table. “Fill your plate with this. You should have no problems eating it.”

B’Elanna took the bowl of what looked like carrots and potatoes. “Is there anything like salad?” she asked, looking down the table.

Miral threw her head back and laughed. B’Elanna assumed that was a ‘no’.

Hours later, B’Elanna was picking at her ‘dessert’ (it was lumpy, red, and not sweet, though Miral had assured her it had no raw animal products) and sipping at her blood wine (which she assumed wasn’t made from actual blood, as Miral hadn’t stopped her from drinking it).

Through much of the evening, B’Elanna had stayed silent -- not that there was much room to get a word in edgewise with this crowd. But now the room was quieter; her cousins with small children had departed and others had moved outside. The windows and doors had been opened, and a breeze was now winding its way through the dining hall, making it almost pleasant. _Maybe this won’t be so bad_ , B’Elanna mused as she half listened to the conversation swirling around her. _Maybe I can adjust._

“B’Elanna, what are you going to do here on Qo’noS?” Krel’Tah, B’Elanna’s aunt, asked. Snapping out of her contemplations, B’Elanna looked at the large woman. With her brown, smooth skin, full lips, and sweeping forehead ridges, B’Elanna thought her aunt was one of the more attractive Klingons she’d seen.

“Um, I’m not sure,” B’Elanna looked away, busying herself by rinsing her hand off in her finger bowl.

“B’Elanna will finish school,” Miral informed Krel’Tah. “It’s too late for her to return to university this year, but there is still time to apply for next year’s class. The engineering school at the Defense Force Academy is the best, but there are other good schools here in the capital should B’Elanna not want to join the military.”

B’Elanna turned her head to stare at her mother. This was the first she had heard of this plan.

“But that would be almost a year from now. What will she do until then?” Dar’Rok aimed the question at Miral.

“Well, I don’t know --” B’Elanna tried to insert herself into the conversation about _her_ future. But Miral cut her off.

“She will have to study for the exams; improve her knowledge of written Klingon. There are preparatory classes she can take in the meantime.”

“That assumes --” B’Elanna raised her voice and tried again, only this time to be cut off by her uncle.

“That will hardly take all her time. She should come work at the restaurant with us,” he gestured to Krel’Tah and Ma’Leth. “We can always use another set of hands.”

Miral nodded. “This would be agreeable if --”

“Enough!” B’Elanna slammed her fist down on the table as she stood. “I’m sitting right fucking here! Stop deciding my future without even consulting me!”

The room fell silent at her outburst. It was as though they had just seen her – or maybe just realized that she did have Klingon blood in her after all.

“What do you want, _PuqnI'be'_?” Ma’Leth’s eyes focused solely on B’Elanna.

“I…” B’Elanna began, but then trailed off. She had no clue how to finish that sentence. She _had_ wanted to be a Starfleet officer. She _had_ wanted to absorb everything there was to know about science and engineering. When had those wants been turned into an overwhelming urge to hide in her dorm room? The eyes of everyone still at the table were upon her, pricking into her flesh like a million tiny pins. As the adrenaline coursed through her, the heat and smells of the room became too much. She had to get out. Leaving the table, she muttered, “I don’t know.”

* * *

 

_Just kill me now…_

B’Elanna was slumped over the toilet, her head resting against her forearm. As another wave of dizziness hit her, she gripped the toilet seat, white knuckled, and prepared to expel more of the contents of her stomachs.

After the torrent passed, B’Elanna spat, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Feeling better – for the moment – she released the toilet and eased herself onto the stone floor.

Lying on her stomach, B’Elanna closed her eyes and tried to bring her sweat drenched body into as much contact with the cool floor as possible. Her exhausted mind wondered if sleeping here was an option, rather than trying to make it back to her bedroom.

“B’Elanna?”

She didn’t open her eyes at her mother’s voice. “This planet is trying to kill me.”

“I heard.” There was a rustle, then B’Elanna felt her mother’s hand on her back, moving in slow circles. “Do you remember when you were young and we came to Qo’noS for the first time? The first night we were here, you were also sick.”

B’Elanna groaned -- she remembered.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night.” Miral moved her hand up to B’Elanna’s hair, stroking the sweat matted curls. B’Elanna sighed, comforted by the endorphins her mother’s touch released. “And told me your stomachs hurt. The next thing I knew, you were vomiting all over the bed. And me.”

“I’m always a lot of fun on Qo’noS.”

“We did have some fun on that trip. I remember you practicing the _Mok'bara_ with my father,” Miral chuckled. “You didn’t know any of the positions, and despite him trying to show you, you preferred to just dance around the courtyard, doing your own interpretation of his movements.”

“It’s nice that he tolerates me.” B’Elanna could feel her stomachs beginning to churn again.

“He loves you. He always has,” Miral confided. “Always been interested in how your mixed heritage presents itself. He called your dancing ‘Human _Mok’bara_.’”

B’Elanna snorted. She could just imagine her mother’s embarrassment, as her human child danced around and refused to act like a Klingon. As though to remind her just how not Klingon she was, the world began to spin and chills raced up and down her body. B’Elanna shivered, sucking in a quick gasp of air between her clenched teeth.

Miral’s hand moved to rub B’Elanna’s sweat slicked arm, obviously trying to warm her up. “You need to be more careful about what you eat.”

 _Are you lecturing me right now?!_ The vertigo was increasing – even though B’Elanna was laying on the ground – a sure sign she was about to puke again.

Miral droned on. “Your human physiology can’t tolerate the raw foods here.”

B’Elanna’s eyes snapped open, and she lunged for the toilet. After depositing the contents of her stomachs in the commode yet again, she turned to face her mother. Her vertigo had subsided, to be replaced by fury. “Are you serious? I didn’t want to eat the stupid… whatever it was! All these ridiculous rituals and posturing -- that’s why I’m sick! If you weren’t always trying to avoid the fact that I’m not fully Klingon, we could have just explained why I couldn’t eat the stupid meat and then I wouldn’t be lying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night!”

B’Elanna’s stomachs rolled again, and she turned back to the toilet, waiting for another surge to erupt from her stomach. When nothing came, she slumped against the seat and closed her eyes. B’Elanna heard movement -- she assumed it was Miral standing up.

“Do you need anything?” Miral’s voice was even, if a bit cold. B’Elanna had expected her mother to snap back at her… but then again, she probably looked too pathetic to be yelled at while hanging her head in a toilet.

“No. Just leave me alone.”

Her mother’s footsteps left the room, only to return a minute later. “I thought I said--” B’Elanna opened her eyes, stopping short when she saw a glass of water had been placed next to her on the ground -- and her mother leaving the room.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _PuqnI'be'_ , it’s good to see you are still among the living!”

B’Elanna groaned as she shuffled into the main room of the house, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Reports of my death have been exaggerated, though not by much,” B’Elanna replied as she walked past the seating area towards the kitchen, where her grandfather sat at the table, reading a PADD and drinking a cup of _raktajino_.

Ma’Leth chuckled. “Miral said, before she went to work, that you had some trouble last night.” He put his PADD down and began to stand. “Since you have nothing left in your stomachs, you must be hungry. Let me get you something. Your mother programmed the replicator with human foods for you.”

B’Elanna had reached the kitchen, and waved her grandfather away. “I can manage,” she replied and made her way to the replicator. It was embedded in the wall next to the more traditional methods of food preparation, including some rather barbaric looking knifes and something that looked like a plasma cutter. _Why in the world would you need that in the kitchen?_

B’Elanna punched her selection into the replicator. Despite her troubles the evening before, this morning she was feeling good, other than a bit of shuttle-lag. As her food materialized, B’Elanna turned to her grandfather. “You said Mom’s at work already? What time is it?”

“Four hours past sunrise.”

B’Elanna tried to calculate what time that meant. Was sunrise at six o’clock? Or was it seven? Qo’noS didn’t rotate on a tilted axis, so sunrise was at a constant time, but B’Elanna could never remember exactly when that was. And there was also the matter of the twenty-eight hour day…

“It’s just after eleven, in Standard Time,” Ma’Leth supplied, having noticing B’Elanna’s confusion.

 _Seven! That’s right!_ B’Elanna put her food down on the table, before taking a seat on the bench across from her grandfather. “Thanks, I was having trouble remembering when sunrise was.”

“I forgot that on Earth the time is not told like that. But I am sure you will adjust to it. Sunset is fourteen hours later, at twenty-one. Just so you recall.” 

B’Elanna nodded her thanks, before turning her attention to her food. A few bites in, she noticed her grandfather hadn’t returned to his PADD; instead he was staring at her.

“What?” she asked, her mouth half full.

“What is that you’re eating?”

B’Elanna couldn’t decide if he was asking out of curiosity, disgust, or a bit of both. She looked down at her food and tried to think of how to describe them in Klingon. “I don’t know any of these words. Do you want to just try it? This is a, um, bread covered in a sweet liquid,” B’Elanna said, gesturing to the stack of light brown disks on the plate. “And this is a cooked part of an animal.”

B’Elanna slid the plate across the table. Her grandfather’s trepidation made her laugh… compared to Klingon food, this was a walk in the park. Ma’Leth picked up the fork, awkwardly, and tried to stab at the food. “ _VavnI’_ , you can use your hands…”

“No,” he growled, mostly at the fork. “I will not let this thing defeat me.” After a couple more tries, he got some in his mouth -- and didn’t even try to hide his disgust. “It’s so sweet!” he exclaimed, grabbing his _raktajino_. “It’s like eating pure leak’Ta root!” He took another gulp of his beverage.

B’Elanna tried not to laugh at her grandfather’s reaction. “Is this what I looked like last night when I had to eat the _qa’Da’_?”

Ma’Leth let out a loud guffaw. “You did a much better job of hiding your disgust!” The old man gestured to the strips of reddish-brown flesh on the plate. “Is this sweet?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “You’ll probably like it more… and even I eat that one with my fingers.”

B’Elanna thought she saw relief pass over the old man’s face. He took a bite, this time only grimacing slightly. “I would like it better uncooked,” he declared, before pushing the plate back towards B’Elanna.

“Well, to each their own,” B’Elanna replied, turning her attention back to her breakfast.

“This is true. I’ll eat all the _qa’Da_ and you can eat all the…”

“Pancakes and bacon,” B’Elanna supplied, in Federation Standard.

“Pancakes and bacon,” her grandfather repeated, tripping over the strange words.

For a few moments, the two were silent, Ma’Leth going back to his reading, B’Elanna eating her breakfast.

“About last night,” Ma’Leth said, still looking at his PADD, “would you like to come with me to the restaurant today?”

B’Elanna paused, mid-chew. She wanted to say no outright, just to get back at her uncle and mother. But what else was she going to do? Stay in the house all day, every day?

“What would I do?” B’Elanna asked.

“What would you like to do? You could wait tables, help me cook, wash dishes…”

B’Elanna shuddered at the notion of waiting on a bunch of rowdy Klingons. “I don’t think I want to interact with the customers.”

“Then you can stay in the back with me.” Ma’Leth stood and headed for the kitchen. “To be honest, I don’t really like interacting with customers either. They are a demanding lot. One of the joys of turning the restaurant over to your uncle is he now has to deal with them, rather than me!” He placed his mug in the dish cleaner, before turning to look back at B’Elanna. 

B’Elanna mulled it over. It couldn’t hurt to try, right? And it did seem like her saying yes would make the old man happy. “Okay, I’ll come.”

Ma’Leth’s face broke out in a grin -- and B’Elanna couldn’t help but return his smile. “Fantastic! I will do my morning _Mok’bara_ practice while you get ready. We’ll go in about an hour?”

B’Elanna nodded. “Sounds good.”  


	5. Chapter 5

**January 2366**

 

The hot sun beat down on B’Elanna’s shoulders as she lunged forward, her arms positioned as though she was holding a giant beach ball. After a month of practicing the _Mok’bara_ with her grandfather each morning in the family courtyard, she’d finally memorized the ten-minute-long initial practice. Sneaking her hand out of position, B’Elanna wiped the sweat from her brow – how was it so hot at only one hour past sunrise? – before picking up her leading leg and drawing her knee near her chest, her arms moving into a Y shape above her head. She held the pose to the count of five.

A month… in a month she had gone from Starfleet cadet to kitchen help. Even as things were falling apart at the Academy, B’Elanna had held onto the dim hope that it would all work out: that she’d become an engineer and work in research and development on ground breaking technologies. That, in the grand scheme of things, it would matter that she had existed. But now? She could count on one hand the people who would care whether she lived or died. 

Out of the corner of her eye, B’Elanna could see her grandfather taking up the same position. He was dressed in the typical loose fitting white jacket and pants of a _Mok’bara_ practitioner – a contrast to B’Elanna’s green tank top and black, skin tight, shorts. Ma’Leth had suggested that she replicate the traditional garb, but B’Elanna refused. Half of the duffle bag she’d brought to Qo’noS had been workout clothes from her track and field days – there was no point in replicating more when what she had was perfectly serviceable.

As B’Elanna began to kick her lifted leg out and bring her arms down into a T shape, she saw her grandfather waver, then set his raised leg down. B’Elanna had never seen her grandfather lose his balance. Not that she faulted him – she’d only made it through the initial practice once without stumbling.

B’Elanna held her pose, waiting for Ma’Leth to reassume his. The old man lifted his leg, but immediately set it back down. He then tried to step to the side, but stumbled and collapsed on the red dirt.

“ _VavnI’_!” B’Elanna broke her pose and rushed to him, her bare knees scraping against the ground as she dropped to his side. His eyes were opened but unfocused. “ _VavnI’_? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Lanna,” Ma’Leth mumbled. His eyes focused on her face, but he looked confused. Beads of sweat dotted his blanched skin. “Why… why am I on the ground?”

“You collapsed.” B’Elanna pressed the old man’s shoulders down when he tried to sit up. “Don’t move. I’ll get Dar’Rok, and we’ll take you to the medical center.”

“No.” Ma’Leth pushed her hand away and sat up, heaving a breath. “No, don’t bother your uncle about this.” He cleared his throat and began dusting the red dirt of his white jacket. “It’s just the heat. Run inside and get me some water.”

By the time B’Elanna returned, Ma’Leth was no longer sitting in the middle of the courtyard, but on a bench in the shaded patio. B’Elanna handed him the water and sat next to him. She looked him over; the color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes seemed alert.

“Stop staring at me like I’m dying,” Ma’Leth chided, dumping the remaining water over his thick, grey hair. “I’m just an old man who got overheated. Nothing to worry about.”

B’Elanna couldn’t help but feel like her grandfather wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “Are you sure?” Ma’Leth turned to her. _He does look like he’s back to normal…_

“I’m sure. But I think I’ll forgo our sparring.” He clasped her on the knee as he rose. “You should finish the initial practice. Then we will head over to the restaurant.”

B’Elanna watched him as he walked back inside the house. Nothing about his gait gave her cause for worry – his color had returned and the confusion passed quickly. B’Elanna rose and headed back out into the courtyard. _It does seem like he just got overheated_ , she thought as she picked up from where she’d left off, arms outstretched and leg lifted perpendicular to her torso.

 _But it isn’t any hotter than yesterday… or the day before…_  

* * *

 

 _How is it so warm even at night?_ B’Elanna wondered, not for the first time, as she walked through the dimly lit streets between the restaurant and home. The muggy night had been little relief from the hot kitchen, and B’Elanna was dreaming of a cool shower, followed by dinner in front of her climate control unit.

As she opened the heavy wood door, B’Elanna saw that the main room was fully lit – odd, since Miral was having dinner with a friend and B’Elanna had just left her grandfather at the restaurant. “Hello?” B’Elanna’s voice echoed through the high-ceilinged room.

“In here.”

Miral was at the kitchen table, a plate of meat and vegetables before here. B’Elanna crinkled her nose at the smell, annoyed that working in the kitchen still hadn’t desensitized her to the reek of Klingon food. “You’re home?”

Miral took a large bite. “I am. Is it a problem?” she spoke through the mouth full of food – a habit of Klingons that B’Elanna had never been able to abide.

“No, it’s just that _VavnI’_ said you would be out with a friend.”

“Jarek had to cancel.”

“Who’s Jarek?” B’Elanna walked around the table to the replicator. She began to flip through the human menu.

“He’s my man-friend.”

B’Elanna paused her scrolling. She’d never heard the word ‘friend’ gendered like that before.

Before B’Elanna could press her mother on the ins and outs of Klingon grammar, Miral asked, “When will your grandfather be home?”

“He said in about an hour. Speaking of him,” B’Elanna keyed in the command for two tacos al pastor, “something strange happened with _VavnI’_ today.”

Miral glanced up. “What happened?”

B’Elanna placed her meal on the table, and took a seat. “This morning, while we were practicing _Mok’bara_ , he collapsed.”

“Is he well?”

B’Elanna shrugged. “He said he was just overheated.”

“Hmph,” Miral grunted before returning her attention to her food. 

B’Elanna gnawed on her lip. _How can she be so dismissive of this?_ “Is that it? I tell you your father collapsed and all you say is, ‘hmph’?”

“You just said he was fine.”

B’Elanna shook her head, feeling her frustration with her mom rising with each passing second. “No, what I said was that _he_ said he was just overheated.”

“Was it hot?”

“It’s _always_ hot! He’s never fainted before!”

“Maybe he had not drunk enough water. Maybe he had too much blood wine last night. Why do you doubt him?”

“I don’t know…It just all came out of nowhere. And he didn’t look well when he first came to -- really pale and confused.”

Miral picked at her food, crushing a tuber against a strip of meat before popping it in her mouth. “Lanna, he just gave you a scare -- this is all. Your grandfather has spent seventy-three years in his body. Let him be the judge of if he is well or not.”

B’Elanna looked anywhere but her mother’s condescending gaze. “So, you’re not concerned at all?”

“I will save my concern for where it is needed. For example, you have yet to sign up for any of the preparatory classes I suggested.”

The fucking classes. At the end of B’Elanna’s second day in Qam’Chee, Miral had come home with a stack of PADDs and a schedule of classes that B’Elanna should sign up for; to prepare herself for the university exams that would take place in six months. B’Elanna had taken the PADDs from Miral and placed them on her desk – where they remained untouched.

“I know,” B’Elanna replied, her focus on squeezing lime over her tacos rather than her mother. “I’m just… I just want to take some time off.”

“Time off?”

“Yeah.” B’Elanna looked up at her mom, who clearly wasn’t supportive of this notion. “I… I want to figure out what I want to do, before I waste more time in school.”

“You do not wish to be an engineer anymore.” Miral’s tone had an air of finality to it that made B’Elanna’s skin crawl.

“No… I don’t know…” B’Elanna huffed.

“Lanna,” she said, reaching across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “You’ve always wanted to be an engineer. What changed?”

B’Elanna pulled her hand away. “I don’t know.”

“So, this is it? You’re going to wash dishes and chop vegetables for the rest of your life?”

B’Elanna’s head shot up at the change in her mother’s tone. “No,” she growled between clenched teeth. “I just want to take a minute to decide if being an engineer is still what I want. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

Miral leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “This is not hard for me to understand. What I don’t understand is why you are different now.”

B’Elanna shot up from her chair. “I’m _not_ different!”

Miral stood as well, holding her hand out to silence her daughter. “You are! All you talked about through secondary school was studying engineering at the Academy. You worked hard to get there; you proved anyone who doubted you wrong.” Miral’s tone softened. “And I was so proud of you. Even when you had problems, you overcame them with honor.”

B’Elanna crossed her arms tightly against her chest and stared at the floor. She’d never heard her mom talk like this. But the use of the past tense – was proud – caught in her mind. The other shoe was about to drop.

“But last semester?” Miral’s voice took on a sharp edge. “Disciplinary hearings? Suspensions? To say nothing of your grades. A C- in interstellar history? This is what I do not understand, B’Elanna. What has happened to you?”

B’Elanna wanted to scream. What had happened? Nobody had given a fuck about her at the Academy. Her best ideas were shot down without consideration – by the elitist professors and stuck-up students. It was like the ridges on her forehead were a dunce cap. And the exhaustion… even on the nights that she had gotten enough sleep, she’d never been as tired in her life as she had been those last six months at the Academy. It had gotten to the point where it was a struggle to even get out of bed.

“What happened to me?" B'Elanna lashed out. "I got stuck in a system that didn’t allow for any original thought! Any idea I came up with wasn’t good enough for those assholes. Anytime I spoke up, I was the problem! They expected me to sit down and shut up and I refused to!”

“Maybe they expected you to act like an adult rather than a sulky child!”

“I can’t deal with you right now!” B’Elanna turned on her heel and headed for her room, her footsteps echoing off the stone floor.

“Run away! Like you did from the Academy!” Miral yelled after her.

B’Elanna slammed shut her door and screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**February 2366**

B’Elanna stared down at the _pipius_ in the bucket. It looked back up at her. “You want me to what?” she asked, breaking eye contact with the octopus-lobster hybrid and looking up at her grandfather.

“Grab it and cut its head off!” he called from the stove, where he was sautéing some fragrant roots. “But watch out for that claw! I nearly lost an eye to one of these _ghew’Er_ back when I was a cook in the Defense Force.” The old man laughed. “Wounded in battle with a _pipius_ … I never lived it down!”

B’Elanna looked back at the creature in the bucket. It was trying to climb up the sides, but the combination of the slick surface and the force field over the top kept the tentacled creature from making a quick escape. Over the last two months, B’Elanna’s kitchen duties had been of a more benign variety: fixing broken appliances, washing dishes, chopping vegetables. Occasionally she’d had to cut up meat… but never the kind that could cut her back.

“ _VavnI’_ …” B’Elanna’s voice sounded whiny even to her ears. “Why can’t you do this?”

“Because I’m busy over here!” Ma’Leth added something liquid to his hot pan, causing a cloud of steam to rise. “And I need that _pipius_ in just a couple minutes. So, get the tongs, grab it by the claw, put it in on the block, and chop its head off.”

B’Elanna groaned as she reached for the tongs and a blade that looked something like a machete. Taking a deep breath, B’Elanna mentally counted to three and shut off the force field.

It was like the damn thing knew it was now or never. It hissed at B’Elanna, moving its claw into a defensive posture. B’Elanna lunged with the tongs, but the creature evaded. B’Elanna tried again, this time getting a piece of the claw. The _pipius_ shot a stream of liquid, writhing as B’Elanna lifted it from the bucket to the chopping block. On the counter, the animal rolled around as B’Elanna lifted her blade, aiming for the head. B’Elanna struck. But it was a miss – and in her excitement B’Elanna had loosened her grip on the tongs.

Free, the _pipius_ plopped off the block and onto the floor, skittering around the kitchen. B’Elanna chased after it, snapping her tongs as the _pipus_ waved its claw. First left, then right, it danced closer and closer to the door between kitchen and the seating area of the restaurant.

“Get back here, you motherfucker.” B’Elanna tried to herd it away from the exit, but it was too quick. “No, no, no,” B’Elanna breathed, as the door swung open.

Krel’Tah stood in the entry way, taking in the scene. Before B’Elanna could say a word, the woman snatched the _pipius_ by the claw. She then took the knife out of B’Elanna’s hand, slammed the creature onto the block, and chopped its head off.

Without a word, Krel’Tah handed the knife back to B’Elanna, grabbed a pitcher of blood wine, and walked back out into the restaurant. 

Stunned, B’Elanna stared at the defeated creature – until she heard laughter from the other side of the room. Turning, she saw her grandfather doubled over. “Are you laughing at me?” B’Elanna snapped.

“Yes!” the old man gasped.

B’Elanna could feel her annoyance rising with each of her grandfather’s snorts. “Maybe if you’d helped me that wouldn’t have happened!” B’Elanna snarled.

“ _PuqnI'be'_ ,” Ma’Leth set down his spatula and approached, taking her shoulders in his hands. B’Elanna refused to meet his eyes. “You have to learn to laugh at yourself! Don’t be so angry! This was funny, you chasing that _pipius_ across the kitchen, dancing just like him. Laugh!”

A smirk pulled at the corners of B’Elanna’s mouth. She tried to fight it.

“I see that smile.” Ma’Leth released one of her shoulders and tilted her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact. “Sometimes you’ll make a fool of yourself – this can’t be avoided. So, either you can get mad and lash out or you can laugh about it and move on.” He released her, turning his attention to the _pipius_ on the counter. “It’s your choice.”

B’Elanna watched as he picked up the creature and threw it in the pot he’d been tending earlier. He then sat down on his stool next to the stove.

“I’m sorry,” B’Elanna murmured, as she slowly approached the old man.

“I know,” Ma’Leth replied, leaning back. “But you do this often: lash out. Especially with your mother.”

B’Elanna folded her arms tightly across her chest. Things had simmered to an uneasy détente since their blow out over B’Elanna’s schooling -- although Miral was still dropping hints about the stupid exams.

“Maybe if she listened to me, things would go better.”

“Maybe you need to have more patience – give her time to understand and listen to her position.”

“Why are you blaming me? What about her?”

“I’m not ‘blaming’ anyone,” Ma’Leth rose and checked on his boiling pot. “Lanna, your mother loves you and only wants the best in life for you.” He turned, facing B’Elanna square on, his face serious. “And we all know this isn’t your path. I enjoy having you here, but you don’t want to be a cook or own a restaurant. You get much more pleasure out of fixing my broken equipment. Miral is just trying to get you back onto your path.”

“What if I don’t want to get back on it?”

“Then you don’t. But you’re an adult now. Act like one. Don’t pout and snipe at your mother. Listen to her suggestions, take them as such, and then act. You don’t have to live the life Miral wants for you, but you do have to live the life you want. And that life isn’t in this kitchen.”

B’Elanna wanted to object, to tell Ma’Leth all the ways in which Miral was the problem… but she couldn’t. If she had just been able to keep it together at the Academy, she wouldn’t have had to come back to her mother’s house. She would be on her ‘path’, and Miral wouldn’t need to constantly chide her. In the end, it _was_ all her fault.

“You’re right,” she replied, her eyes lowering to the ground. “I’ll try harder.”

“Good, now, get me -- ”

The doors to the kitchen swung open, interrupting her grandfather’s words. “B’Elanna,” Krel’Tah said, standing in the doorway. “There is an alien in the dining room. Her translator is broken, but I think she was trying to tell me she speaks Standard. Go talk to her. If you can understand her, take her order.”

“Okay,” B’Elanna replied, glad to leave her grandfather and his lectures behind in the kitchen. Walking out into the faux-torch lit dining room, B’Elanna took a deep breath and enjoyed for a moment the relative coolness of the space. Only a few diners peppered the room – mostly older couples sharing an early dinner. Scanning the patrons – and in the back of her mind wondering who’d ordered the unruly _pipius_ \-- B’Elanna spotted the only non-Klingon face in the restaurant.

The woman – who appeared a bit older than B’Elanna -- looked human, apart from a set of ridges on the bridge of her nose. She wore an elaborate earring on her right ear, its silver color bright against her dark skin; her tightly coiled hair was pulled back into a bun. As B’Elanna approached, the woman looked up, a welcoming smile on her face.

Normally, B’Elanna didn’t like interacting with customers. They were demanding; more than a few had questioned her about her race. B’Elanna was typically reluctant to leave the safe, if hot, confines of her grandfather’s kitchen.

But this woman’s smile… it put B’Elanna at ease. She wasn’t staring at B’Elanna’s forehead. If anything, she looked relieved to see B’Elanna approach.

“Standard?” the woman asked in one of the worst Klingon accents B’Elanna had ever heard.

“Yeah, I speak Standard.”

Relief washed over the woman. “Thank the Prophets. I can’t believe my stupid translator decided to give out on me now.” The woman spoke in a smooth alto that was accented in a way B’Elanna couldn’t quite put her finger on. However, she’d also never seen this woman’s species before, so she wasn’t surprised she couldn’t place the accent.

“What’s wrong with it?” B’Elanna asked, distracted from her original mission by the sirens call of broken technology.

“The translator?” Her furrowed brow caused additional creases on her nose. B’Elanna nodded. “I don’t know. It just stopped working.”

B’Elanna wondered if she should just take the woman’s order or… “Can I see it?” The words were out of her mouth before her mind fully made itself up.

“Um, sure.” The woman dug into her pocket for the piece of technology in question as B’Elanna slid into the seat across the table. “Are you a technician or something?”

“Not really,” B’Elanna murmured as she turned the contraption around in her hand. There was no latch to open it up – she’d need a spanner. “Can I take this in the back and see if I can fix it?”

The woman chuckled, gesturing at the useless translator. “Be my guest. It’s no good to me the way it is.”

A smile broke out on B’Elanna’s face. “I’ll bring it back once I’ve figured it out.” She rose and started back towards the kitchen. _Fuck, I forgot to get her order!_ Skidding to a stop, B’Elanna pivoted and went back to the woman’s table. “I, uh,” B’Elanna began.

“Forgot to get my order?” The woman wore a bemused expression.

B’Elanna let out a short laugh. “Yeah. As you may have guessed I’m not actually a waitress.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me what your official position is. If you can fix my translator _and_ get me food, you’ll be my favorite person on Qo’noS.”

“I’m sure I can get you the food… we’ll see about the translator. What will you have?”

“The thing is,” the woman replied, gesturing to the menu. “I actually can’t read this. Do you have any recommendations? Something without meat? Or at least cooked?”

“It sounds like you and I have similar tastes in Klingon food,” B’Elanna remarked as she scanned the list of options, trying to make sense of the Klingon letters. _Maybe Mom is right about sending me to language classes._

“Well, then I’ll just take whatever you normally have.”

“I don’t eat here often,” B’Elanna confessed. “But when I do, my grandfather makes me a vegetable dish that’s pretty good. But I don’t think it’s on the menu.”

“Do you think he’d make it for me?”

“I can ask.”

“Great, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. My aunt will bring it out to you. Just ask for me if you need anything else… that is, until I fix this.” B’Elanna said, waving the translator in her hand before turning back towards the kitchen.

“Wait.”

 _What did I forget now?_ B’Elanna turned back towards the woman.

“I don’t know how to ask for you.” The woman smiled apologetically. “My Klingon isn’t good enough to say ‘the nice woman who is fixing my translator and doesn’t like raw meat either’.”

B’Elanna had a hard time meeting the woman’s eyes, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks at having been called ‘nice’ -- not a word that had been often used to describe her. “My name’s B’Elanna.”

The woman gestured to herself. “Tevi.”

* * *

 

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Tevi said, leaning against a bollard outside the restaurant. 

When B’Elanna had come back to Tevi’s table to return the now functional translator, the dining room had been transformed by the large and loud dinner crowd – exactly the kind B’Elanna liked to avoid. She had intended to just return the translator and slink back into the kitchen, but Tevi, done with her meal, had asked if she could personally thank B’Elanna’s grandfather.

“Don’t worry about it,” B’Elanna said, taking in a breath of air, enjoying its lack of smells when compared to the kitchen – although it had nothing on the ocean breezes in San Francisco. “The connection between the power source and the amplifier had just come loose. That’s all.” 

“Still, you didn’t have to do that. So, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A moment of silence passed between the two. B’Elanna knew she should go back in – she was scheduled to work another hour – but she didn’t feel like going back into the hot kitchen just yet.

“May I ask you something forward?”

“That depends. How forward?”

Tevi laughed. “Well, I wasn’t going to ask you out on a date or anything… unless you’d like me to?” Tevi’s eyebrows waggled.

B’Elanna smiled, though a bit unnerved by the attention. “I typically go for men.”

“That’s probably for the best. You’re cute, but I’m a little old for you. But actually -- and please tell me to go to the Fire Caves if I’m being rude,” Tevi paused, trying to find the right phrasing. “Your grandfather and aunt look Klingon…”

 _Well, at least she was nice about asking_. “I’m half Klingon. My father is human.”

“That explains why you speak like you’re from the Federation.”

B’Elanna’s mind flashed back to Kessik – it may have been a backwater world, but it was home. “I grew up there, on an outer colony in the Beta Quadrant. I moved to Qo’noS a few months ago – to be with my family.” B’Elanna cleared her throat. “You know, turnabout is fair play. I’ve never seen your species before…”

“I suppose you got me there. I’m Bajoran.”

“Ah,” B’Elanna replied, trying to sound like she’d at least recognized the name of Tevi’s people.

“You’ve never heard of us, have you?”

B’Elanna chuckled. “No. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay -- most people haven’t. My homeworld,” Tevi paused, her eyes trained on the ground. “We’ve been occupied by the Cardassians for nearly fifty years. So there aren’t many of us out among the stars anymore.”

B’Elanna could remember, as a child, seeing news reports about the Cardassians attacking Federation territories. At the Academy, the depth of their war crimes and methods of torture had been described in one of her required classes in her first year. To have one’s home world overrun by those monsters… “That’s terrible. I’ve heard stuff about the Cardassians…” B’Elanna shifted. “I’m really sorry.”

A shroud fell over Tevi’s expression, even as she managed a smile. “Well, what can you do?” 

B’Elanna knew what a Klingon’s answer would be: fight the fucking bastards. B’Elanna pursed her lips. “I don’t know.”

A beeping emanated from Tevi’s pocket. She pulled out her PADD, thumbing it on to view the message. “Shit,” she muttered, before flicking it off and stuffing it back into her pants. “I completely lost track of the time. I have to run.”

“Yeah. I should get back to work, too.” B’Elanna gestured towards the door to the kitchen.

“I’ll drop by next time I’m on Qo’noS. Your grandfather makes the best food I’ve had on this planet.” Tevi flashed B’Elanna a wide grin. “And it was really nice to meet you, B’Elanna.”

B’Elanna couldn’t help but return the smile. “It was nice to meet you, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

A warm breeze whipped B’Elanna’s hair as she stared at the sea, munching on her turkey sandwich. Behind her, she could hear her cousin’s children playing _No’Vitch_ , their laughter punctuated by shouts and grunts as the players collided. Most of the adults were seated around the food the family had brought for lunch – an uncooked animal, as usual.

Digging her toes into the sand, B’Elanna smiled. She’d always loved the beach – be it on Kessik, Earth, or Qo’noS. The warmth of the sun on her skin, the sound of the waves… hell, even the sand that got everywhere and into everything.

A Klingon man walked between B’Elanna and the ocean, not bothering to pretend that he wasn’t staring at her. B’Elanna scowled in return, glaring until the man turned away. He wasn’t the first one. When B’Elanna had stripped down to her bikini, her family – even her grandfather -- had done a double take. It wasn’t surprising, something that looked more like a wetsuit was typical Klingon beach attire – for both genders. But it was too damn hot for that, and B’Elanna refused to have Klingon sensibilities get in her way of having a nice day at the beach.

B’Elanna could hear the sand shifting behind her. Turning, she saw her mother approach. “It was only a few kilometers from here,” Miral said, sitting down in the sand, “where Lukara and Kahless finally defeated Morlor’s armies.”

“Is that so?” B’Elanna replied. It was _Lukara jaj_ – a celebration of Lukara and all Klingon women – so it only seemed fair to let her mom go on about the famous figure.

“It is. We should go to see the statue of Lukara that Kahless carved when we get back to Qam’Chee. It’s near the Great Hall.”

B’Elanna made a noncommittal noise. Maybe Miral would forget. Maybe B’Elanna would fight Miral on it later. Or maybe she would just go and keep her damn mouth shut. But no need to get into it now – it was too nice a day for arguing.

B’Elanna popped the final bite of her sandwich into her mouth and leaned back on her elbows. She watched as one of her cousins chased his young child into the surf. Before a small wave could hit the girl, he caught her and swung her around. She shouted in delight.

A short distance away, Dar’Rok was walking out of the surf, dragging something that looked like a canoe out of the ocean. Once the boat was securely on the sand, he offered his hand to Krel’Tah, who disembarked in a regal manner.

“Miral,” Dar’Rok called as they approached. “The sea is fine today. You should take B’Elanna out, show her the coast.”

“That is a good idea.” Miral turned to B’Elanna. “Would you like that?”

While being trapped on a small boat with her mother wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun excursion, it was getting dull just sitting on the beach -- and B’Elanna had always enjoyed being out on the water. “Sure.”

After getting through the surf, B’Elanna and Miral settled in and headed south along the coast, B’Elanna sitting forward and Miral taking aft. Few words were exchanged as they bobbed on the turquoise water, passing craggy reddish cliffs dotted with green and brown succulents. B’Elanna drank in the sun and breeze; relished in the rocking of the boat and the motion of paddling. Despite being on a small boat, she felt free.

“Do you see that?” Miral pointed towards a pair of low cliffs, the waves lapping at their base.

“See what?” There was nothing of note on or near the cliffs, other than a shaded bench in an outcrop -- although that was hardly a rarity along this shoreline.

“The cliffs.”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I can see the cliffs. What about them?”

“Do you remember falling into the sea when you were a child?”

“Yeah.” It had been on that first trip to Qo’noS. Miral had taken her to the sea for the day. In the midst of looking at tide pools, B’Elanna tried to jump between two cliffs… “Is this where I fell in?”

“It is.”

B’Elanna pulled her oar out of the water and placed it on her lap. She could hear Miral do the same. The cliffs weren’t nearly as high as she remembered – as an adult, she could imagine herself jumping from them for sport.

“I was watching you play,” Miral began, dredging up the memory. “I knew the moment you jumped that you would not make it to the opposite cliff. However, I was not worried – I thought you would fall in the water and climb back out. But when I went to check on you, I saw you, floating face down.” Miral paused. “That day was the worst of my life.”

B’Elanna turned to face her mother. “Really? But I was fine.”

“In the end. But when I pulled you from the sea, you weren’t breathing.” Miral looked toward the cliff. “I thought I’d lost you.”

B’Elanna didn’t know what to say. _Sorry for being an idiot child…?_ “But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Miral grabbed B’Elanna’s hand. “I know we’ve always fought, but I love you. I never want to lose you.”

 _What in the world is going on right now?_ B’Elanna mustered a smile. “I know. I love you, too.”

“Then hear what I say with love, not anger: I’m worried about you.”

B’Elanna’s heart thumped against her chest. “Why?”

“You’re different than when you left for the Academy. Less focused, less determined. You’ve given up everything you fought for.”

“The Academy was hard.” It sounded lame even to B’Elanna’s ears.

Miral took a breath. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong so we can fight it together.”

B’Elanna’s grip tightened on the oar. “Mom…”

“Don’t sit there and tell me ‘nothing’s wrong’. You are my daughter and I know you better than you think.”

B’Elanna looked down at her hands, over at the cliffs, at the fish swimming through the clear water… anywhere but Miral’s eyes. She tried to come up with a way to get out of this, of an excuse that her mother would buy. But the feeling of Miral’s eyes boring into her slowly drove B’Elanna towards the truth. “I’m tired. I’m tired and everything – every decision – it feels like too much. I just can’t…” B’Elanna trailed off, focusing her attention on her oar, tracing the wood’s grains with the tip of her finger.

“Your father would say similar things.”

B’Elanna looked again at her mother -- and couldn’t decide if Miral was pitying her or was disappointed.

“A couple years after you were born, your father changed,” Miral continued. “I would ask him what was wrong, and often he would say he was tired. He never wanted to go out and do anything, even the things he had liked – taking you to the park, for instance.”

B’Elanna looked back down at the sea. “Was something wrong with him?”

“Nothing that I know of. I thought maybe he needed to get out of the house more – having a child is time consuming. I told him to get involved with something he had a passion for – so he started playing the guitar again. It made him happier for a time.”

“So, you think I need to do something I have a passion for?” B’Elanna tried to think of the last time she’d felt passionate about anything.

“I do not know. But you need to fill your days with some kind of joy.”

“I suppose you have some ideas?” _If she suggests those damn exam classes…_

Miral pondered it for a moment. “Klingons take joy in physical activity, especially in improving through training. You enjoy practicing the _Mok’bara_?”

B’Elanna had started practicing at her grandfather’s request and had found it inoffensive. Like paddling the canoe, it cleared her mind and, for a moment, allowed the weight of the future to lift from her shoulders. “Yeah, I like it.”

Miral smiled, glad she’d found the key to her daughter’s happiness. B’Elanna didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble. “Good. Then you should take classes. I will find some for you when we get home.”

B’Elanna took a breath and tried to smile. _It’s better than the exam prep._ “Sounds good.”


	8. Chapter 8

**March 2366**

B’Elanna tossed her gym bag on the floor of the entryway, a grin still plastered on her face. Today at _Mok’bara_ class, B’Elanna had been able to do an advanced move on the first try. She knew it was due to her human flexibility, but she didn’t tell the instructor that – rather, she basked in the praise she lavished on her only non-Klingon student.

B’Elanna crossed the main room, headed for the replicator. Life in Qam’Chee had settled into a rhythm: get up, go to _Mok’bara_ class, spar with Ma’Leth if there was time before they headed to the restaurant, come home, go to bed. It was the same each day – other than on _ghInjaj_ , the end of the six day week, when Klingons stayed in and contemplated Kahless. On those days, B’Elanna retreated to her room, avoiding the ceremonies that her family performed.

She ordered water from the replicator and headed for the courtyard, excited to show Ma’Leth her new found skill. “ _VavnI’_ , guess wha…” B’Elanna trailed off. Her grandfather wasn’t outside. “ _VavnI’_?” she called, looking around the space that was enclosed by her house on one side and her uncle’s on the other.

No one responded.

B’Elanna retreated into the house. “ _VavnI’_?”

For a moment, only silence met her. Then, from Ma’Leth’s bedroom, she heard a weak, “In here.”

B’Elanna crossed the main room, headed for the hallway that lead to the bedrooms – her footfalls the only breaks in the silence. She found her grandfather’s door ajar and pushed it open just wide enough to slip inside. Ma’Leth was laying on his slab, covered in furs, the lights dim. A strong herbal scent permeated the room – like a mixture of mint and rosemary. “ _VavnI’_?” B’Elanna whispered.

“ _PuqnI'be'_.” Ma’Leth gestured for B’Elanna to come closer.

As she approached, B’Elanna noticed he was still in his night clothes. “What’s wrong?”

Ma’Leth took her hand, tugging on it slightly to indicate that she should sit on the edge of the slab. “I’m ill today.” His voice was raspy, as though he’d spent the night coughing.

B’Elanna reached out to touch her grandfather’s cheeks. They were clammy. “Should I get a doctor?”

Ma’Leth snorted, which spurred on a cough. “For a cold? A doctor would laugh at my weakness. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.” B’Elanna looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “It’s just, in the Federation --”

“Humans have a different way than Klingons. This is natural,” Ma’Leth cut in, stilling her hands with his own, before giving them a squeeze. “Now tell me, how was class?”

The grin returned to B’Elanna’s face. “Good. I was able to do a _lok’Matar_ on the first try.”

“Oh! Look at my _puqnI'be'_! You’ll be a master in no time.”

“It’s just because I’m flexible -- even for a human.”

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “No matter. The other students will use being fully Klingon to their advantage; it is only right that you use being half human to yours.”

“I suppose.” B’Elanna looked away, wondering why it never felt like an asset to be bi-species.

“No, do not ‘suppose’. I am right.”

“All right. Fine,” B’Elanna huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Good, I’m glad we are in accord.” Ma’Leth’s chuckles devolved into coughs. He sat up, grabbing a rag from his bedside table, and spat a mouthful of phlegm into it. He moaned as he leaned back against the furs. “Now, go get ready for work,” he said, patting B’Elanna’s leg. “Dar’Rok will need help today since I’m not there.”

B’Elanna frowned. “You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I have a cold, I’m not infirmed,” Ma’Leth grumbled. “I’ll be fine.”

B’Elanna rose, eyeing her grandfather as he turned on his side. “Message me if you need anything.”

“You worry too much. Go!”

B’Elanna walked back across the darkened room, stealing one last glance at her grandfather before exiting into the hall.


	9. Chapter 9

> _Geran leaned in close, his breath hot against Yey’Val’s neck. He nibbled at the flesh, eliciting a moan from his lover’s throat. Emboldened, Geran kissed, licked, and bit his way down her neck and to her breast, where he proceeded to take an erect—_

“B’Elanna!”

Her mother’s voice caused B’Elanna to jump and hastily thumb off her PADD. “What!?” B’Elanna called back, not bothering to get off her bed.

“Dinner!”

B’Elanna sighed -- just when her novel was getting good. Stuffing the PADD under her pillow next to Toby, B’Elanna rose, stretching her stiff muscles. She’d spent most of this _ghInjaj_ on her bed, absorbed in her latest find: _In the Heat of Battle and Love_. Like all the Klingon romance novels she’d read, it was cheesy at best, but it did possess certain... stimulating qualities.

Walking into the main room of the house, B’Elanna was hit with a mix of pungent incense and Klingon food. _This doesn’t do much for the appetite_.

Miral was rolling up the floor cloth in front of the shine of Kahless while Ma’Leth worked in the kitchen. It had taken over a week for him to recover from his cold – he’d just returned to the restaurant yesterday. Her mother and uncle didn’t seem worried about Ma’Leth’s health, but the whole thing didn’t sit well with B’Elanna. She watched him with a wary eye as he plated the food – looking for any indication that he wasn’t fully recovered.

“B’Elanna.” He handed her two plates, one that held her vegetarian meal and another that was full of meat for Miral. “Take these to the table.”

B’Elanna complied, placing the plates on the table before filling two finger bowls for Ma’Leth and Miral. As her mother made her way to the table, B’Elanna grabbed a knife, fork, and napkin for herself – having found it difficult to adjust to eating with her hands.

Miral was already digging into her food when B’Elanna returned with the accoutrements. Ma’Leth soon followed, setting his own plate of food down before taking a seat himself.

“How has your _ghInjaj_ been?” Ma’Leth asked her as he took a bite of his meal.

“Good,” B’Elanna replied, swallowing a mouth full of food. “I’ve been reading.”

“You should join us in contemplation some _ghInjaj_ ,” Miral said -- just as she did almost every _ghInjaj._

“Maybe.”

The family continued to eat, the clattering of silverware and the smacking of lips was the only conversation.  

“Miral, have you told B’Elanna about the technician position?”

B’Elanna stiffened. _Now what does she want me to do?_

Miral shook her head in response to Ma’Leth. “I had not.” Miral took another bite of food and then turned to B’Elanna, speaking as she chewed. “I learned yesterday that there is an opening for an apprentice technician in the engine research division of my firm. My friend, Jarek, oversees the department. I could speak to him on your behalf.”

“I don’t know.” B’Elanna looked down at her food, pushing it around with her fork. It felt odd getting a job because her mom’s friend was the manager… although, wasn’t that how the universe worked?

“B’Elanna, this is a good opportunity.” Ma’Leth set down the leg of… something… he’d been gnawing on, and gave her a stern look. “We all know that your favorite thing at work is fixing the old equipment. Why not at least consider the position?”

B’Elanna sighed. Why not, indeed? She turned to Miral. “Do you know anything else about it?”

Miral nodded. “Yes. When we examine new fuel mixtures, we often need to recalibrate the engines. The head of this department works with the scientists and engineers to make proper calibrations. The technicians then make the changes to the ships – as well as fix any vessels that were damaged in testing. It’s a good match for you – you could learn more about ships and put your engineering knowledge to use.”

A chance to work on ships without having to go back to school. It was like a dream come true – only she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. B’Elanna looked between her mother and grandfather. _They both want me to do this. I should want me to do this._

B’Elanna knew to say “no” would take much more effort than to say “yes”. “Okay. Can you set a meeting up for me?”


	10. Chapter 10

**April 2366**

“Now add the _pre’chat_ ,” Ma’Leth commanded from his stool next to the stove. B’Elanna hefted the bowl of vegetables and added it to the massive pot that was bubbling on the fire. Since his bout with the cold last month, Ma’Leth had taken to doing less and ordering more – perched on his stool he conducted B’Elanna like a one-woman orchestra.

It had been working fairly well – there had been few complaints about the food since B’Elanna had started doing more of the cooking. But today all that was coming to an end. B’Elanna would start her new job tomorrow – leaving Ma’Leth to fend for himself in the kitchen.

Stepping back from the fire and wiping her brow with the bottom of her apron, B’Elanna looked over at Ma’Leth. “What are you going to do when I leave?”

Ma’Leth laughed. “I managed to survive many years without you as my assistant.”

“I know, but…” B’Elanna trailed off.

“You burden yourself needlessly, _puqnI'be'_. I may have grown lazy, having you around to do my work for me, but I’m not feeble.”

“Okay, I just--”

A loud crack broke through the rumbling and hissing of the pots as the kitchen door swung open, smacking against the wall. “B’Elanna.” Krel’Tah stood in the doorway, a hand on her hip. “Your friend is back.”

“My friend?” B’Elanna asked, but it was too late. Krel’Tah was gone.

“Go see this friend.” Ma’Leth rose from his stool. “This is a good opportunity for me to show you I’m not yet in my grave, after all.”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes, and her grandfather chuckled as he turned away to tend to the pot of _pre’chat_.

B’Elanna hung her apron on a hook near the door and stepped into the dining room. Even though the room was only partially full – it was just half past sunset – the room echoed with the laughs, shouts, and clanging dishes. _Why do Klingons do everything so loudly?_

A wave from the far back corner caught her eye. It was Tevi. B’Elanna’s eyes went wide – it had been almost two months since that night she’d fixed the translator, and while Tevi had said she’d drop by the next time she was in Qam’Chee, B’Elanna hadn’t held her breath.

Crossing the room, B’Elanna tried to ignore the stares of the Klingon diners as she passed. She was dressed shorts and a tank top – for her, a necessity in the hot kitchen -- but unusual garb for Klingons. Even when dressed in a more Klingon style, her small stature and lightly ridged forehead often received questioning glances. But when dressed like a human… the glances turned to stares and open gawking.

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, B’Elanna hurried through the gauntlet of diners and slid into the booth across from Tevi. “I’m surprised to see you back.”

“I said I would be.” Tevi moved her drink to the side and placed her forearms on the table, leaning in so she could be heard better in the loud restaurant. “Between the food and the company, why wouldn’t I come back?”

“I just…” B’Elanna paused. Why _had_ she assumed Tevi would never be back? “I mean, I didn’t know if you’d ever make it back to Qo’noS.” 

“Ah, well, I think my work will be bringing me back every month or so.” Tevi took a sip of her drink – B’Elanna’s nose caught a whiff of _cH’aI_ as she set the cup down.

“Your work?”

“I haul goods.” Tevi launched into a detailed description of the goods she transported and her various ports of call. Halfway through, B’Elanna wondered why Tevi thought she needed _this_ much information. Not that she cared -- listening to someone speak in Standard was like having coffee with an old friend.

When her words finally slowed, B’Elanna asked, “Do you like it? Being a hauler, I mean.”

Tevi shifted in her seat, bringing her leg underneath herself to sit on her foot. “It’s a good job, but it can be lonely. I’ve been told that once I get into port I talk a mile a minute just to get in all the talking I missed over the long haul – not letting others get a word in edgewise…” Tevi laughed. “Kinda like right now. I think you’ve said all of ten words.”

“Maybe fifteen…” B’Elanna smirked.

“Completely inexcusable. So, how are you?”

The conversation began in the realm of the usual pleasantries -- the health of B’Elanna’s family and the weather in Qam’Chee -- before heading to less well trodden areas. They chatted about how B’Elanna’s family came to run a restaurant; how Tevi’s mother had worked for a time as a cook; how Miral couldn’t prepare a meal to save her life. Krel’Tah had come and gone, bringing food and drink.

After describing her mother’s work as a research scientist, B’Elanna cleared her throat. “Actually, this is my last day in the kitchen. Tomorrow I’ll start a new job at the same company as my mother.”

“Really? Doing what?” Tevi asked, taking a bite of her food.

B’Elanna explained the details of the job -- or at least what she’d been told of it in her interview.

Tevi sat back in the booth, her face dawning with realization. “This explains how you could fix my translator. I’d thought it was strange that someone who worked in a kitchen could also do that.”

“Yeah. So, um,” B’Elanna said, wanting to redirect the conversation before she had to start answering questions about the Academy. “You said you’d been on your ship for twelve days. Where were you last?”

“Oh.” Tevi glanced over at the table next to them, where a boisterous family was enjoying their dinner. “Federation space, near the Cardassian border.”

B’Elanna racked her brain, trying to remember what was in that area of the quadrant – nothing that she could think of. “What were you doing out there?”

Tevi shifted in the booth before flashing a smile. “It was just my last port of call.” Tevi took a sip of her drink, before smiling at B’Elanna again. “You know, I was thinking about going out tonight – the more time I can spend away from my ship, the better. You have any recommendation for a club? I know some places around the port to get a drink, but I’m always up for trying something new.”

B’Elanna hadn’t been out since she’d left Earth… she wasn’t even sure Klingons had clubs. “Um, I don’t get out much.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I… I haven’t met many people since I got here.”

Tevi slapped her hand down on the table. “That’s because you aren’t going out! Not every new friend is going to just land in your restaurant with a broken translator…”

“Sure, but--”

“No, no ‘but’. You’re, what, twenty?”

“Nineteen.”

Tevi rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is, you’re too young to just sit around at home.” Tevi paused, her lips pursed. “Do you like to dance?”

B’Elanna didn’t know how to respond. She’d liked it on Earth… but who knew what Klingon dancing was like. “Maybe?”

Tevi let out a sigh of mock exasperation. “Well, that’s a ringing endorsement. Look, I have nowhere to be tonight and you need to celebrate your new job. How about we go out after you’re done with work? – I owe you one for fixing my translator, anyway. I know a place near the port… If you’re not feeling it, you can go back home.”

B’Elanna weighed the offer. Miral had cautioned her against the Port District, but if Tevi knew the place, it would be fine. And what was the worst that could happen? Putting a smile on her face, B’Elanna replied, “Sure.”

* * *

 

B’Elanna walked through the darkened streets of her neighborhood, enjoying the warm night and the buzz of alcohol. It was late, but B’Elanna didn’t really care. While it might be less than ideal, she still had time to get in a solid six hours of sleep before starting the new job in the morning.

She’d meant to get home earlier. When she’d left the house, she’d told Ma’Leth – who’d been sitting in his chair reading  – she’d be home by twenty-seven. But it was later than that when she’d finally boarded her transport home.

Tevi had taken her to the most cosmopolitan place B’Elanna had seen in Qam’Chee. The patrons had been a rainbow of species; the menu had just as much variety. No one had stared at her or ask if she was _actually_ Klingon. After her second whisky sour, Tevi had pulled her out onto the dance floor, and much to B’Elanna’s surprise, she’d enjoyed herself. Grinding to rhythms spanning the quadrant, she’d accepted dance partners and drinks until Tevi had pulled her from the club.

“I’m starving,” B’Elanna moaned as they walked out of the club.

“I bet you are.” Tevi glanced up from a message she was reading on her PADD. “The only time you stopped dancing was to get more alcohol.”

“Well, one must have their priorities.” B’Elanna stumbled, the combination of heels, cobblestones, and alcohol getting the best of her.

“Whoa there!” Tevi reached out, grabbing B’Elanna’s arm with her free hand. “Let’s get some food into you.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk.”

“Uh huh. In any case,” Tevi held B’Elanna’s arm tight and steered her down the street, “some food can’t hurt you.”

“Yes, food,” B’Elanna agreed, conjuring up what she wanted. Terran? Andorian? She looked over at Tevi, who was again glancing at her PADD. “Who’s messaging you?”

Tevi stashed the device in the pocket of her dress. “No one.” She flashed B’Elanna a wide grin.  “I’m not a good influence – getting you shit faced the night before you start your new job.”

“I’m not ‘shit faced’.” Looking over at Tevi, she saw the disbelief on the older woman’s face. “I metabolize alcohol a lot quicker than humans.” Really, she’d be fine… soon.

Tevi quirked an eyebrow. “Whatever you say…”

B’Elanna had left Tevi after they’d eaten at the nearest replimat – and B’Elanna had proven she was indeed sober enough to get herself home. Now just a few doors away, B’Elanna pulled her PADD out of her pocket to check the time. Thumbing it on, her heart leapt into her throat. Ten missed messages from her mother, all of them with the same general message: where are you?

_Shit._

B’Elanna picked up the pace, the mugginess of the air suffocating her as her footfalls echoed through the empty street. Had something happened? Had Ma’Leth been sicker than he let on? She rushed inside, seeing the lights in the main room were still on, and she could hear the clicking of boots as they paced the stone floor.

“Lanna?” She could hear the worry in Miral’s voice.

“It’s me. What happened?” B’Elanna asked as she shut the door.

“Where in the name of Kahless have you been?!” Miral snapped.

“I went out with Tevi.” She checked the time again on her PADD -- only thirty-five minutes late… what was the big deal?

“You went _out_? Where?! And who the hell is Tevi!?”

B’Elanna tried to keep her composure. Yelling back wouldn’t be productive. She edged into the main room. “Tevi is my friend – I met her a few months ago at the restaurant. We went out to a club near the port. I told _VavnI’_ I’d be back at twenty-seven… I’m not that late.”

Miral rounded on her. “Your grandfather was asleep when I got home. I had no idea where you were! Why didn’t you respond to my messages?”

B’Elanna looked down at the PADD again. The messages had only started an hour ago. “I hadn’t checked my PADD in the last hour. Did you just realize I was gone?”

Miral’s eyes narrowed. _Shit, why can’t I keep my damn mouth shut?_ “ _I_ was with Jarek. _I_ told you I would be home late. And this is not about where I was, it’s about where _you_ were. Down by the port? With a friend I’ve never heard of before?”

“I’m not a child!” B’Elanna crossed the room to stand toe to toe with her mother. “I lived on my own for a year and a half, going out with all kinds of people you’d never met!”

“Hopefully _they_ had more sense than this new _friend_! You reek of alcohol and _gephat_ smoke! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is near the port? Especially for non-Klingons?”

B’Elanna stepped back. “‘Non-Klingons’?”

“Just look at you!” Miral waved her hand up and down, gesturing at B’Elanna’s clothes. “Human shoes, human dress, human makeup…” B’Elanna looked down at her strappy black wedges and lightweight halter dress. She thought about how she’d carefully applied makeup before she’d gone out, using foundation to even out the darker skin under her ridges – making them less obvious. Miral continued, “You may have Klingon blood, but everything else about you is human.”

“You mean, everything about me is weak! And whose fault is all of this, huh? I didn’t have any say in whether I was born or not. Maybe you should have thought twice before marrying a human if you hate them so much!”

“You will watch your tongue, B’Elanna.”

B’Elanna clenched her fists. She wanted nothing more than to hit something, or maybe to run as far and as fast as she could from the house. Taking a deep breath, she faced her mother. “I’m _sorry_ you were worried. I’m _sorry_ I was late.” B’Elanna’s eyes narrowed. “And I’m _very sorry_ I’m not the daughter you wanted.” B’Elanna turned, marching to her bedroom and slamming the door shut before Miral could say another word.


	11. Chapter 11

**May 2366**

“Great work today!” Jarek slapped B’Elanna on the back, causing her to stumble forward. She caught herself and straightened quickly, hoping her manager didn’t notice.

“Thanks.” B’Elanna knelt to pack up her tools.

“Tiga could not believe you already knew how to remodulate a phase compensator. None of our trainee technicians come here knowing how to do that.”

B’Elanna shrugged. “I learned about them at the Academy – they aren’t that hard to understand.”

“Most people would not agree.”

B’Elanna side-eyed Jarek. It would be one thing if the olive-skinned man were _just_ her manager… but the first time B’Elanna had seen him with her mother, it had become clear how B’Elanna had gotten this job.

“He’s your _par'Mach'kai_?!” B’Elanna had hissed after Jarek kissed her mother goodbye as they had left work. “Why have I never met him?”

“He’s _not_ my _par'Mach'kai_.” The two women walked out of the building and through the crowded plaza, towards the transport station. “He is my man-friend.”

The pair dodged a food cart, and B’Elanna gagged at the smell that emanated from it. “What does that mean?”

The bright light of day was eclipsed as the two descended the stairs into the transport station. B’Elanna shrugged off her outer layer, the stuffiness of the place making her lightheaded. Miral said, over the din of the crowd, “It means, despite enjoying each other’s company, we keep our lives separate. That is why you had not met.”

“So, you’re telling me that I got my first job because you’re sleeping with my boss?”

“He would not have hired you if you were not qualified.” She looked forward again as they entered the transport station and muttered, “And there are much more unethical ways to get a job.”

Since then, B’Elanna had the feeling that Jarek was trying to win her over. He would compliment her on how well she was doing, despite B’Elanna knowing she wasn’t at peak performance -- she was often tired and slow to pick up on what her mentors were telling her. Despite this, she did enjoy the work – it was a lot more challenging than her days in the kitchen. Plus, she was learning a lot about starship engines.

B’Elanna snapped her tool case shut, stood, and faced Jarek. She tried to hold herself as tall as possible, but she couldn’t compete -- the man must have been nearly two meters. Looking up, B’Elanna met his dark eyes. “If they think a phase compensator is hard to understand, then they should reconsider their career path.”

Jarek laughed. “You’re a funny one. Goodnight, B’Elanna. See you next week.”

B’Elanna sighed as he walked away. Picking up her bag, she walked out of the hanger bay and headed for the transport station.

Twenty minutes later, B’Elanna was off the train and nearly home. Glancing at her PADD, she saw she had forty minutes to get home, change, eat, and get to _Mok’bara_ practice. Entering the house, B’Elanna dropped her work bag by the door and crossed the main room, heading to the replicator for a snack. She was considering various combinations of fruits and nuts when she noticed a hand on the ground, extending from behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room.

It was Ma’Leth’s hand.

“ _VavnI’_?!” B’Elanna ran the last couple steps, dropping to her knees when she arrived at her grandfather’s side. “ _VavnI’_?!” she called again, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

He didn’t respond.

Her hands shaking, B’Elanna searched for a pulse. She found it. Ma’Leth’s skin was warm, if clammy, and she could see the rise and fall of his chest. Blood matted his grey hair and had collected in a puddle on the floor beneath his head. B’Elanna panicked, trying to decide on the fastest way to get help. Yanking her PADD from her pocket, she called Miral.


	12. Chapter 12

_This is positively medieval._ B’Elanna sat in the main room of her home, her arms folded and legs crossed, her heel tapping against the stone floor.

After explaining Ma’Leth’s condition to her mother, B’Elanna had sat with her grandfather on the floor, stroking his hair and telling the unconscious man that everything would be fine. It felt like an eternity before the door to the house swung open. Dar’Rok entered with a doctor in tow. B’Elanna had expected a whole crew of medics, but it was just one woman -- pale with light curly hair that was shot through with grey – who gave Ma’Leth a cursory examination before asking Dar’Rok to help her get Ma’Leth to his bed.

Miral had arrived twenty minutes later. Along with Dar’Rok, B’Elanna and her mother had waited in silence for the doctor to emerge. When she did, she asked Miral and Dar’Rok to join her in Ma’Leth’s bedchamber. B’Elanna had tried to follow, but Miral shot her a look – one that told B’Elanna she should sit her ass back down.

That was ten minutes ago. Since then, B’Elanna had made out bits of the conversation – the words for heart and leak kept coming up -- but a lot of it was using complicated medical language that surpassed her vocabulary. She’d also heard Ma’Leth’s voice – sounding strong for a man who had just been unconscious -- repeating the word ‘no’ several times.

B’Elanna took a deep breath as she rocked back and forth. This felt too much like when she’d sat in the waiting room at the hospital the night her grandmother died. Uncle Carl had called to say things were looking bad -- if B’Elanna wanted to say goodbye, she needed to do it soon.

She’d only spent a couple minutes in the room with her grandmother. She’d looked nothing like the woman B’Elanna had grown up knowing – she was small and frail, tubes and machines keeping her alive.

“ _Abuela_ , it’s me, B’Elanna,” she whispered, taking Isela’s cold, bony hand in her own.

Isela’s head turned slightly at her voice. B’Elanna liked to think there was recognition in her eyes.

Alone in the room, B’Elanna didn’t know what to say. _Thanks for loving me when my father couldn’t? Thanks for not abandoning me like he did?_

Tears clouded B’Elanna’s vision and the knot in her throat kept her from speaking. After a moment, she croaked, “Don’t leave me, _Abuela_.”

She felt the old woman squeeze her hand, and saw her start blinking rapidly. She didn’t know what her grandmother was trying to communicate, but there seemed to be only one response to give. “I love you, too.”

B’Elanna tried to push the memory from her mind as she sat alone in the main room of her grandfather’s house, listening to the disembodied voices. Finally, there was a pause and the door opened. B’Elanna stood. Dar’Rok emerged, followed by the doctor. They both headed for the door – it was clear Dar’Rok wasn’t staying. Miral came out a moment later. “You can see him now,” her mother told her, before disappearing into her own bedroom.

 _Well, it can’t be that bad if no one is staying with him_. B’Elanna headed to her grandfather’s room.

“ _PuqnI'be'_.” Ma’Leth gestured from the bed when B’Elanna slipped through the door. Crossing the room, she could see there was still blood in his grey hair, although his color was improved and his eyes were clear and focused.

“What happened?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I passed out and hit my head. I have a concussion. But the healer fixed it up, so that’s fine now.”

B’Elanna looked down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. There had been so many warning signs up to now that Ma’Leth wasn’t feeling well. Why had she let it get to the point where he’d hurt himself? Looking back up, she asked. “What caused you to pass out?”

Ma’Leth reached out, grabbing her hands. “I’m an old man, _PuqnI'be'_. My heart doesn’t work as well as it used to.”

“Okay, so what will they do to stop it from happening again?”

Ma’Leth took a breath. “ _PuqnI'be'_ , I have a degenerative heart condition. There is no cure. I would have to go to the hospital for a procedure every couple months to keep it at bay.”

B’Elanna tried to process what he was saying. “So, there is a treatment.”

Ma’Leth took in a breath, sadness clouding his features. “I’m old. I don’t want to spend the time I have left in a medical center.”

Realization dawned on B’Elanna. He wasn’t going to do anything about this. She shook her hand away from his and crossed her arms. “So, what? You’re just going to keep fainting? How’s that…” B’Elanna trailed off as she grasped what was happening. She rocketed to her feet. “You’re just going to let yourself die!”

“B’Elanna…” Ma’Leth leaned forward, trying to reach for her.

But B’Elanna wanted none of it. “You would rather _die_ than go to a medical center?!” She paced the room, trying to control the surge of adrenaline that begged her to fight or run.

“It’s not that simple--”

B’Elanna cut him off. “It _is_ that simple! Why the hell would you chose to die?!”

“Because my time has come!”

B’Elanna froze. Her grandfather had never snapped at her, and she didn’t know how to respond. She watched as the man took a breath, leaning back against the furs that propped him up. “ _PuqnI'be'_ , come here.”

Tentative, B’Elanna approached the bed again and allowed her grandfather to pull her down next to him. He took her into his arms, holding her head against his broad chest. “Listen,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. “They could keep me alive for another couple of years by dragging me to the medical center each month. Or I could take this like a warrior and see it to the end without the doctor’s intervention.” As Ma’Leth stroked her hair, B’Elanna could feel the tears welling in her eyes. “I’ve lived a very good life,” he continued. “I’ve watched my children grow into honorable adults. I’m proud to be the grandfather of so many brilliant grandchildren, including you. I’ve had a good career -- I’ve served my people well in the defense force.”

Ma’Leth took a breath. “But I’m ready for _Sto’Vo’Kor_. My L’Naan has been gone ten years now, and not a day goes by that I don’t wake up and reach for her. I’m ready to fight by her side in the eternal battle. And I don’t want to burden Dar’Rok and Miral by clinging to this life. It’s time.”

B’Elanna couldn’t stand it anymore. All this talk of _Sto’Vo’Kor_ and _SoSnI'_ \-- she couldn’t believe that he thought the afterlife was real. This was the only life he had – and it wasn’t worth the occasional trip to the hospital? Tears burning in her eyes, B’Elanna pushed away from her grandfather and hurried from his room. She crossed the hall, entered her own room, and slammed the door shut. Flinging herself on the bed, she grabbed Toby, clutching him as she sobbed. 


	13. Chapter 13

**June 2366**

“B’Elanna? What do you think?”

B’Elanna’s head snapped up to look at Tiga, who was running the meeting. _Shit. How long did I zone out for?_ B’Elanna searched her memory, hoping it would become clear what Tiga was asking about.

It did not.

“Um, could you repeat the question?” B’Elanna asked.

Tiga’s large set of central cranial ridges gained an extra furrow as she growled. “I asked if you agreed with Sher’Mel about the inverse tachyon pulse.”

B’Elanna glanced over at Sher’Mel. The small, older man was leaning on the table, the look in his dark eyes daring B’Elanna to challenge him. To be honest, she didn’t really remember what he’d said – and she didn’t want to admit she’d been zoning out for that long.

“Sure, it sounds fine,” B’Elanna replied.

Sher’Mel smacked his stubby hand against the table as he rose. “Then it’s decided! We will start planning for a triangular pulse!”

Tiga nodded in agreement before dismissing the assembled technicians and engineers. As B’Elanna filled out the door, she wondered what a triangular pulse had to do with what they’d been discussing before she’d zoned out. One typically used a sinusoidal pulse for that application. B’Elanna shrugged. It’s not like her opinions counted for much, anyway.

B’Elanna glanced at the time – half an hour until work was over. She returned to her desk, antsy for the moment that she could leave and head for _Mok’bara_ practice. Sparring with the other students had become the high point of her days. There was something about getting lost in the heat of battle that allowed her to forget all the shit that was going on. 

Sighing, B’Elanna opened her log of repairs. Scanning through, she realized that remodulating a plasma infuser would take the least amount of time – but that would still be at least forty-five minutes. She drummed her fingers against the desk. Her to-do list seemed never ending. She’d finish one repair or alteration and another four would appear. She knew it was standard Klingon practice to work more hours than one was paid for; it’s how one got ahead. But B’Elanna couldn’t bring herself to stay any longer than required.

She glanced at the time again. Twenty-five minutes. Putting her elbows on her desk, she rubbed either side of the bridge of her nose with her thumbs. _What can I fill twenty-five minutes with?_ Dropping her hands back to the desk, B’Elanna opened the report on her most recent repair. _Maybe if I do this slowly enough, it will take the rest of the day…_

“B’Elanna?” Jarek’s voice caused her to jump. Spinning around in her chair, B’Elanna looked up at her manager.

“Yes?” 

“I wanted to check up on you. Tiga mentioned you’ve been distracted of late.”

She turned back to her report. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on it.”

“I didn’t come to reprimand you. I know about Ma’Leth. Miral mentioned you were not taking it well.”

 _Damn her!_ B’Elanna wanted to scream. Telling her manager about her personal life!? B’Elanna took a breath, trying not to take her anger at her mom out on Jarek. “I’m fine. I won’t let it interfere with my work again.”

Jarek paused, as though he wanted to say more, but settled for clasping B’Elanna’s shoulder. “I lost my father recently. I know it can be hard. Take comfort in knowing he will fight eternally in _Sto’Vo’Kor_ , and you will be reunited with him.”

B’Elanna fought the urge to roll her eyes. These Klingons and their childish belief in the afterlife. It was just as real as the tooth fairy. “Thanks,” B’Elanna replied, looking down as she fiddled with her hands. “I better get back to these reports.”

She began typing without waiting for Jarek to reply. For a moment, she didn’t hear him move and was afraid he’d try to talk more about ‘her feelings’. Mercifully, he took the hint, and she could hear his footfalls move away from her deck.

Letting out a long breath, B’Elanna checked the time again.

Fifteen more minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

_4-17… 4-18… 4-19…_ B’Elanna read the numbers painted on the ground as she walked through the ‘personal vessels’ area of the port. Shading her eyes against the morning sun, she looked down the aisle, trying to get a sense of how much further it would be to 4-47 – the space that housed Tevi’s freighter.

B’Elanna had been woken this _ghInjaj_ morning by the incessant beeping of her PADD. She’d ignored it at first – this was the only day she got to sleep in – but the stupid thing would not stop buzzing. With a growl, she’d finally grabbed it, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind _._

Five messages from Tevi, all of them asking if B’Elanna could come down to the port right now. B'Elanna's brow furrowed as her sleep addled brain tried to make sense of the request. After all, she’d just had dinner with Tevi the night before and they had not planned anything for today.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow morning,” Tevi had said, sitting across from B’Elanna in a noisy Bolian restaurant.  

“That’s too bad. If there was more time, we could have gone to the coast or something,” B’Elanna responded, taking a sip of her drink.

They’d talked for nearly two hours: beginning with Miral’s insistence that B’Elanna leave the port neighborhood by 24:00, followed by her boredom with work, and finally Ma’Leth’s health.

“I just feel so helpless,” B’Elanna muttered, pushing her food around her plate. “He doesn’t even go to the restaurant anymore. And yesterday, my mom mentioned that she’s worried about leaving him alone.”

Tevi reached out, stilling B’Elanna’s restless hand. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. It’s hard to watch someone you love deteriorate.”

“It’s just so stupid.” B’Elanna pulled her hand away so she could wrap her arms around herself. “If he would just go to the stupid medical center. Did I tell you that? It’s fucking _treatable_. But he won’t go to the hospital! He--” B’Elanna stopped short, unwilling to finish her sentence.

Tevi pursed her lips. “Maybe there is something you can do at home for him? Have you talked to his doctors?”

B’Elanna let out a rough laugh. “Doctors. God, this planet’s medical system is medieval. Stupid machismo culture.”

“Maybe you could do some research yourself? Maybe there something in the Federation database that you could use.”

“I don’t know.” B’Elanna rested her elbow on the table and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Even if I find something, he probably won’t want to do it.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Lying in bed, B’Elanna had messaged Tevi that she’d be there in half an hour. After she’d stuffed Toby under her pillow, she pulled on some clothes and tied her hair back in a messy bun. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, she’d decided she looked acceptable… even if the circles under her eyes seemed darker than usual.

 _4-26… 4-27…_ B’Elanna hurried down the blacktop aisle, already sweating in the morning heat. Although she was worried about Tevi, B’Elanna was happy to get to see her again. At dinner, she’d felt happier than she had in a while -- maybe since the night she and Tevi had gone dancing. How long ago was that? Almost two months? Her life had devolved into going to work, practicing the _Mok’bara_ , and spending time with Ma’Leth. When she tried to do anything else, reading, for example, her mind would drift off, often playing out scenarios involving Ma’Leth’s death.

 _4-39… 4-40…_ The sun reflected off the hulls of the ships, causing B’Elanna to squint. A hot breeze, magnified by the rows of ships, whipped strands of hair loose from her bun. The port was quiet, it was still early, and B’Elanna was the only person walking between the vessels. B’Elanna was glad for that, the last thing she wanted right now was to be hassled about who she was and what she was doing here. That’s what her life on Qo’noS felt like – one long, exhausting conversation about her existence.

 _4-46… 4-47._ B’Elanna stopped in front of a small vessel painted a deep burgundy. Taking her PADD from her pocket, she messaged Tevi, saying she was outside the ship. A moment later, a large hatch opened, and B’Elanna stepped back so that what once was the bulkhead of the ship wouldn’t crush her. Tevi stood at the top of the ramp, looking impatient as she waited for it to descend. Finally, it hit the pavement and Tevi gestured for B’Elanna to board.

“What’s wrong?” B’Elanna asked as she walked up the ramp.

Tevi looked up and down the aisle lined with freighters. “Did anyone see you?”

B’Elanna’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

“Just get inside,” Tevi snapped as she closed the hatch behind B’Elanna.

“Tevi? Are you all right?” B’Elanna asked as she looked around the cargo hold, trying to find the source of Tevi’s distress. The hold was full of large crates, all marked in Klingon. B’Elanna didn’t take the time to try to read what was written on them.

As the hatch locked into place, Tevi let out a sigh, and leaned against the wall. “Not really,” she replied, before turning to look at B’Elanna. “I was supposed to take off two hours ago, but my magnetic constrictors are fused.”

B’Elanna’s brows creased -- that was an easy repair. “Why didn’t you call the port and ask for a technician to fix it?”

Tevi looked down at the deck and shoved a hand into the loose jacket she was wearing. “B’Elanna, I…” She looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Finally, she directed her gaze at B’Elanna. “I’m sorry. I need your help.”

The hairs on the back of B’Elanna’s neck stood up. B’Elanna looked back at Tevi’s hand, shifting around in her jacket. _What’s in there that she’s grasping?_ “Tevi… I’ll help you. Just tell me what’s wrong.” B’Elanna tried to keep her voice even and calm.

“Can you fix the constrictors?”

“I can.” She took a step towards Tevi. “But tell me why you can’t call the port.”

The corner of Tevi’s mouth rose in a sad kind of smirk. “You really can’t read Klingon, can you?”

“I…” B’Elanna trailed off as she looked at the crates – really looked at them. _Disruptors… Torpedoes… Launchers…_ B’Elanna looked back at Tevi. “Are all these weapons?”

 “Yes.”

B’Elanna’s took a step back toward the hatch. _Oh god._ “And why can’t you call the port?”

“You already know.”

B’Elanna heart skipped a beat. “They’re illegal.”

Tevi nodded.

Panic washed over B’Elanna. Her friend -- her _only_ friend – was a gun runner? She tried to breathe. “What are you going to do to me after I fix the constrictor?”

Tevi looked at B’Elanna, a sad expression on her face. “Nothing, I hope.”

The adrenaline coursing through B’Elanna pushed her over the edge. “‘Nothing, you hope’? What the fuck does that mean?”

“B’Elanna, calm down. Let me just tell you what’s going on.”

“You pretend to be my friend so that, what? You could call me in here one day to fix crap for you before you kill me?” B’Elanna was pacing around the hold.

Tevi shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, B’Elanna, no. It was never like that. I never wanted you to know, but I didn’t know what else to do!”

“How about call the people you got the guns from to help you!?”

“They can’t – please, just calm down and I’ll explain it all.”

B’Elanna turned back towards Tevi, who now had her hands out of her pockets and was holding them out towards B’Elanna. Exhaling, B’Elanna crossed her arms. “Fine. Talk.”

Tevi rubbed her face with her hands, her fingers covering her mouth as she collected her thoughts. Finally, her hands fell away, and she spoke. “I was born on a Bajor after we had already been occupied for twenty years. My parents had only been children when the Cardassians came… and my grandparents were long dead by the time I was born.” She took a breath. “They’d never really known freedom, and neither had I. I lived like that until I was thirty – under the Cardassians’ thumb.”

There was a pause as Tevi began to pace. “When I was 23, I met a woman. We got married two years later. On Bajor, you take your happiness where you can get it. For seven years the Prophets blessed us. I mean, times were always hard, but at the end of the day, I always had her.” Tevi’s voice caught. “Until one day I didn’t.”

Tears glistened in Tevi’s eyes. “They killed her. They thought she was someone else. They charged into our room, dragged her from our bed, and killed her. Right there. No trial. No chance to explain.” Tevi shook her head, letting out a humorless snort. “We’re so worthless to them that it didn’t matter if they killed the wrong Bajoran.”

“Tevi…” B’Elanna breathed. The other woman held out her hand, stopping B’Elanna.

“After that, I joined the Resistance. I couldn’t live with not fighting those motherfuckers anymore. I couldn’t sit by while they killed more of us. So,” Tevi gestured to the hold, “I run guns.”

The silence was thick. B’Elanna looked from the weapons to Tevi. The light-hearted and talkative woman she’d come to know now wore a steely expression. B’Elanna didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry?’ ‘That’s terrible?’ None of it seemed to fit the horror that Tevi had lived through – a horror that B’Elanna couldn’t even imagine.

There was only one thing to say. “Where’s your tool kit?”

* * *

 

Four hours later, Tevi was on her way and B’Elanna was exiting the transport station near her home. The full heat of the day was upon her, and B’Elanna was drenched in sweat after walking only a block. Despite her distaste for the humid heat of Qam’Chee, there was a spring in B’Elanna’s step -- today she’d done something that mattered. Not just fiddled with engines or done repairs from a long list like she did at work -- today she’d helped someone. Hell, maybe she’d helped a whole planet.

Tevi had been a ball of nerves while B’Elanna repaired the constrictor, pacing through the cargo hold, checking the exterior sensor feeds for anyone who looked suspicious.

“The Klingon government turns a blind eye so that we’ll give the Cardassians a bloody nose, but that doesn’t make this safe,” Tevi had explained to B’Elanna as she paced. “I’m so sorry I got you involved.”

B’Elanna let out an exasperated sigh. “Could you stop apologizing for a second so I can concentrate?”

“Sorry,” Tevi murmured as she went to check the sensors again.

In front of her house, B’Elanna rehearsed her lie. She and Tevi had breakfast at a Vulcan place near the port. They then took a walk through the _Gem’Cha_ nature area. Miral wouldn’t question any of this if B’Elanna delivered it with confidence.   

With a breath, she entered the house. The smells of incense met her nose, and she could hear her mother softly chanting. Stepping into the main room, she found Miral and Ma’Leth kneeling before the shrine to Kahless.

Miral paused her chant. “Where were you?”

“I had breakfast with Tevi before she had to leave,” B’Elanna replied, her eyes never meeting her mother’s.

“I’m glad you’ve made a friend, but it would have been nice if you’d made one that lives on this planet.”

 _You mean it would have been nice if she were Klingon_. “Yeah,” she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Miral looked her daughter up and down. B’Elanna held her breath.

“Join us? These chants will bring some peace to your soul.”

B’Elanna exhaled – her mother was changing the topic. “Not this week,” she replied, and headed down the hall.

In her room, the door shut, B’Elanna turned on the environmental control unit and sat on the edge of the bed. She grabbed Toby from under the pillow, looking into his scratched-up eyes. “Her wife was pulled from their bed…” B’Elanna muttered, stroking Toby’s fur. “Can you even imagine it?”

His blank expression indicated he could not.

To have the people you loved the most persecuted and killed… B’Elanna could feel her anger start to rise as she thought about the cruelty of it all. What kind of people would do such a thing?

Pulling out her PADD, B’Elanna opened a search window and typed, _Cardassian Occupation of Bajor._ A long list of articles appeared.

She settled into the bed and began to read.


	15. Chapter 15

> _…This treatment has proven effective in male and female humans. Future work will include the extension of this treatment to other species affected by the degeneration (e.g. Vulcans, Romulans, Tellarites, Klingons)…_

B’Elanna sat upright in her bed. After a week of searching the Federation database she’d finally found it: a way to reverse Ma’Leth’s condition. Sure, it had only been proven to work in humans, but the paper was seven years old. They must have tested the methodology out on Klingons by now.

Searching for additional articles by the same authors, B’Elanna found a paper that concluded that treatment had failed to work on Vulcans (the authors speculated it would therefore not work on Romulans), but nothing about Klingons.

She rolled off the bed and hurried into the living room. Maybe they could contact the research team? Maybe Ma’Leth could be the first patient they tried it on?

“ _VavnI’_?” B’Elanna called as she walked out to the main room. She’d expected to find him there – he’d been resting in his chair when she’d gotten home that evening – but now he was gone. Retreating to the bedrooms, B’Elanna peeked in his room. The bed was empty.

“Where could he have gone?” B’Elanna muttered as she walked back out into the main room. _Maybe he went to Dar’Rok’s?_ B’Elanna walked to the courtyard door.

Opening it, a blast of hot night air hit her. _Is it ever not hot as fuck on this planet?_ B’Elanna was letting her eyes adjust to the darkness when she heard a noise to her right – Ma’Leth. “What are you doing out here?” 

“It was cold in the house. Plus, I’ve always loved these _Nay'Poq_ nights.” He leaned against the house, his eyes closed. B’Elanna joined him on the bench. “L’Naan and I used to sit out here and talk. I remember when we first got married, we’d sit out here and talk about all the plans we had for our life.” He let out a small laugh. “And like all young couples, we learned that a plan is just an invitation to the fates to teach you a lesson.”

B’Elanna didn’t know how to respond. It was true: all her plans had gone to shit. “Yeah,” she responded, looking down at her hands.

“What is it you came out here for?” Ma’Leth clasped her knee.

B’Elanna sat up straight, her eyes lighting up as she turned towards Ma’Leth. “I was going through the Federation database, to learn more about your condition, and I found a paper where they’d completely cured it in humans.” Only silence met B’Elanna’s exciting recitation. “Well?”

“ _PuqnI'be'_ , I’m not human.”

“I _know_ that. But they said it might work on Klingons, too! And the paper was old, so they might have tested it on Klingons already. If not, maybe they are looking for a volunteer, so you--”

“B’Elanna,” Ma’Leth interrupted.

B’Elanna stopped mid-sentence – she knew that tone of voice, stern yet defeated. She looked away, swallowing away the knot in her throat. “You don’t care, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t care…”

“It’s that you _want_ to die,” B’Elanna spat as she rose. “Why?! Why won’t you just do the treatment?!”

“We’ve been over this --” 

“I know we have, and I still don’t get it! If you would just go to the medical center once a month, you’d live another year, at least! Why _not_?!”

“Because I’m ready to go,” Ma’Leth growled.

“But I’m not ready for you to go!” B’Elanna’s words hung in the humid air. When Ma’Leth didn’t reply, B’Elanna continued, kicking at the dirt to expel some of her anger. “You’re the only person on this planet that I can talk to. You can’t leave me.” She looked down, trying to blink back her tears.

Ma’Leth let out a long sigh before rising to his feet. “Come here.” He opened his arms wide, and in a moment, B’Elanna was wrapped in her grandfather’s embrace, that scent of old leather and soap enveloping her. “Listen,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I love you very much. You’re my little human warrior. But…” He took a breath. “Clinging to me like this, it isn’t going to help. People will always come and go from your life. You need to learn to let them go when it’s time. And for me, it’s time.”

B’Elanna shoved her grandfather away. “I don’t understand! You Klingons are supposed to be warriors, and yet you won’t fight this!” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “You know that my grandmother died last year?”

Ma’Leth nodded, as he slumped back down on the bench. “Miral mentioned it when it happened.”

“She was sick for over a year, but she _fought_ to stay alive as long as possible. She didn’t want to go, to leave us all behind.” She rounded on her grandfather. “What kind of warrior just gives up like this?”

Ma’Leth was silent, and, for a moment, B’Elanna thought maybe she’d gotten through to him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to hold the hand of another dying grandparent so soon.

“ _PuqnI'be'_ …” He let out a long breath of air. “I don’t know how to make you understand the Klingon way. We don’t fight this. It’s natural.”

“A lot of terrible things are natural!” B’Elanna’s mind was flooded with images of Ma’Leth’s death – his withered body lying in his furs as Miral and Dar’Rok performed stupid Klingon rituals… all while B’Elanna sat alone, abandoned… B’Elanna tried to breathe, but found herself gasping for air.

“B’Elanna? Are you well?”

 _Everyone you’ll ever love will leave you,_ a voice whispered in the back of her mind. _You’re not worth fighting for – you’re not worth loving. They’ll all leave you, just like your father._

“Fine,” she snarled as she headed back to the house. “I’ll be fine.”

She slammed the door before Ma’Leth could reply.  

* * *

 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” B’Elanna growled at her mother, who was sitting in the main room, an open tome about Kahless resting in her lap.

“I mean, I am not going to force him to go to the Federation to inquire about an untested procedure.”

B’Elanna ground her teeth. How could Miral be so blasé about the death of her own father? “Why not?” B’Elanna began pacing around the room, giving her frustration an outlet – other than her mother. “What does he have to lose?”

Miral set her book aside. “Lanna, my child, come here.” She patted the seat next to her on the couch. B’Elanna hesitated, before flopping down, her arms crossed. Miral turned slightly to face her, drawing one of her knees up onto the seat. “I know you’re having trouble accepting _VavnI’s_ choice. But the choice is his. Not yours. Not mine.”

“So, you agree with him?” B’Elanna snapped.

Miral reached out, placing a hand on her daughter’s leg. “It doesn’t matter if I agree or not. It’s his choice.”

B’Elanna sprung from the couch to resume her pacing. “Why does he alone get to decide to die? This affects us too!”

“Because it is _his_ life,” Miral snapped, becoming frustrated with B’Elanna’s insistence. “You must understand: to be Klingon means to accept when your time has come.”

“But it’s so stupid!”

Miral growled. “How did Isela die? In a hospital? Hooked up to machines that were living for her?”

B’Elanna stopped short, turning back to face her mother. “Don’t bring _Abuela_ into this.”

“But that is how it happened?”

B’Elanna looked at the ground, biting her lip before giving a curt nod.

“This is not how a Klingon dies. We die with dignity, at home or on the battlefield. _Not_ hooked up to machines.”

B’Elanna crossed her arms, hugging herself as she tried to get the image of that hospital room out of her head. She looked at her mother. “But I don’t want to watch him die.”

“Do you think I want to see my father die?”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything to stop it.”

Miral was on her feet and in B’Elanna’s face before she knew what was happening. “I will not take this disrespect from you!” B’Elanna stepped back, but her mother closed the distance. “You disrespect your grandfather’s choice. You disrespect our culture. You hold human ideas to be correct, even when they are _wrong_! I would never want to be hooked up to a machine, clinging to a life that left me paralyzed in bed. That is no way to live!” Miral took a breath. When she continued, her voice was more even. “Stop looking at this from a human perspective. You’re half Klingon: act like it. Stop sulking about the inevitable.”

B’Elanna swallowed. Was she acting like a sulking, disrespectful teenager? “I…” she stammered, trying to form words. Looking at her mother’s face, she could see the hurt she’d inflicted, the anger she’d drawn out. _Stop,_ a voice in her head whispered. _She’s already upset with you. Disappointed in you._

B’Elanna wanted to cry – to fall into her mother’s arms and tell her about the dread that filled her when she thought of Ma’Leth dying. How she’d been trying to focus at work, but the scenario of his death would play over and over in her mind. That the empty and exhausted way she’d felt after Isela had died had returned – and she could hardly bear it.

But she couldn’t do – couldn’t say – any of this. B’Elanna looked down, gnawing her lip. It was human. These feelings were weak and they were human – her mother would never understand.

“I’m sorry,” B’Elanna whispered as she pushed past Miral, trying to keep it together long enough to make it to her bedroom.


	16. Chapter 16

**July 2366**

“So this is your house?” Tevi looked around the main room, nodding in appreciation. “It’s big.”

“Yeah,” B’Elanna replied, embarrassed by the comparative luxury she must live in compared to how Tevi grew up. “Sorry to ask you to come here, but it’s my day to stay home with my grandfather.”

Tevi waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Where is he? Can I meet him?”

“He’s asleep.” Ma’Leth’s condition had rapidly declined in the last several weeks, to the point that he couldn’t be left unattended. The family had been taking turns caring for him, and today was B’Elanna’s day. “He was really out of it this morning.” B’Elanna decided to leave out the excrement infused details.

“That’s too bad. From the way you’ve spoken about him, I was looking forward to meeting him again.”

B’Elanna shrugged. “He’s not like he used to be. He’s really gone downhill this last week.” She tried not to think about it, but she knew he’d be dead soon. She took a breath, trying to focus on Tevi rather than her grandfather’s impending fate.

Tevi must have noticed her distress. She stepped forward, clasping B’Elanna’s shoulder. “At least he hasn’t suffered long.”

B’Elanna tried not to grimace. She hated when people said that. “Yeah. Can I get you something to drink? Eat?”

After a discussion of the options available, the pair returned to the couch, armed with waters and tortilla chips with guacamole.

“It looks slimy,” Tevi said, poking at the dip with her chip.

B’Elanna scooped up a large portion of the green mash. “Well, if you don’t like it, more for me,” she replied with a smile.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat it,” Tevi retorted with a grin of her own. “I’m a child of the Occupation, I’ll eat just about anything.” Tevi popped a dip covered chip in her mouth. “It’s good,” she said, raising her hand to cover her full mouth. “But it is slimy.”

B’Elanna chuckled. “Well, fuck, I guess I’ll have to share.” Leaning back into the couch, she rested her head against the pillows. “When do you leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Tevi was still leaning forward, shoveling guacamole smeared chips into her mouth. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. This supply might be drying up.”

“Is there a way for me to contact you via subspace?”

Tevi shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you my ship’s ID. If someone connects you and me…”

B’Elanna pulled her knees towards her chest. “I understand.”

A chip halfway to her mouth, Tevi paused. “You know it’s not you, right? I’d love to talk to you more often. But I have to protect the movement. And you.”

“No, I know.” _Stop being so sulky._ “I’ve actually been reading about the Cardassians and the Occupation since the last time you were here.”

“That’s not light reading.”

“No. But after reading about all the horrible things the Cardassians have done, I don’t know why the Federation isn’t helping your resistance.”

Tevi was silent for a moment, her lips pursed. “I know why they aren’t helping us.”

B’Elanna leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “You do?”

Tevi’s face went hard. “The Federation has its ideals and thinks it lives up to them, but, in the end, it foremost wants to protect its people. The war with the Cardassians was long and bloody, and they will do almost anything to stop that from happening again. Bajor is nothing to the Federation – just some foreigners who live in a backwater part of the quadrant. It does the Federation no good to get involved with us now.”

B’Elanna didn’t know what to say for a moment. “But I was taught the Federation stands for what’s right,” she insisted. “To let people suffer like this--”

“No great power always stands for what’s right.” Tevi shoved another guacamole slathered chip into her mouth. “Look, I wish the Federation would help us. I wish they would partner with all the other powers in the quadrant and kill every last Cardassian in existence.”

B’Elanna sat back, surprised by the venom in Tevi’s voice. “But that’s genocide. Even innocent ones?”

“There is no such thing.” Tevi’s voice was cold. “It’s not unusual for teenage Cardassians to torture our kids. What kind of people raise children like that?”

B’Elanna paled. “I… I don’t know.”

“No one who deserves to exist. But how many Federation lives would it cost to wipe out the Cardassians?”

B’Elanna tried to imagine the full-scale war. She tried to dredge up memories from her tactical training class. Billions? More?

“It would be trillions,” Tevi continued, answering her own question. “The Federation would never commit to that for a couple billion Bajorans.”

B’Elanna tried to come up with a response -- nothing came to her. “I wish I could help you somehow,” B’Elanna said, sidestepping the question of interstellar war.

Tevi’s face softened back into the open visage that B’Elanna had come to know over the last several months. “You have helped. I don’t know what I would have done without you last month.”

A small grin on her face, B’Elanna looked down and fiddled with her hands. “That was nothing. I wish… I’d like to help in a more substantive way. It felt good to do something to help others. I’d like to do more of that.”

Tevi patted B’Elanna on the leg. “You can help others without getting involved with a rebellion. You’re helping your family right now by taking care of your grandfather. Your job is helping to make space travel more efficient.”

“It doesn’t feel like any of that actually matters.” B’Elanna pulled her leg away from Tevi’s hand. “ _VavnI_ ’ will be dead soon. Any technician could do my job. My mom would be happier if I left again.” B’Elanna stopped, feeling that familiar knot in her throat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be whining.”

 “Come here.” Tevi open her arms wide, gesturing for B’Elanna to come close. B’Elanna eyed her for a moment: no one hugged her other than _VavnI’_. Tevi was looking at her, quizzically. “Do neither humans nor Klingons hug?”

“No, they do,” B’Elanna replied, moving towards Tevi. The older woman wrapped B’Elanna in her strong arms, and the herbal scent of Tevi’s soap filled her nose as she leaned against her shoulder. B’Elanna could feel her muscles relaxing as Tevi held her in a tight embrace.

“Listen to me,” Tevi spoke, her voice soft and low. “It doesn’t matter that your grandfather will go home to the Prophets soon; you’re here for him now. There’s no way your mom would be happier without you; you’re a good person who cares deeply for others. And as for your job… Well, you can always get a different one of those if this one isn’t right.” Tevi pulled back from B’Elanna, who hoped her tears weren’t too evident. “You’ll make it through this rough patch. You’re young still. Your whole life is in front of you. You’ll find your place in the universe, believe me.”

For that moment, B’Elanna did.

* * *

 

“ _VavnI’_?” B’Elanna whispered as she cracked open his bedroom door. Tevi had left a few minutes ago, and with her departure, B’Elanna realized she’d neglected to look in on her grandfather for several hours. “ _VavnI’_?” she called, louder this time, as she slipped into the room.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

He wasn’t breathing.

B’Elanna rushed to her grandfather, grabbing him by the shoulders. “ _VavnI’_!” she shouted, shaking him. He didn’t respond. B’Elanna pressed her fingers against his neck. His skin was cold and she could find no pulse.

“ _VavnI’_ , no,” B’Elanna moaned and she tried to figure out what to do. Try to get him breathing again? Call Miral?

_The death ritual._

B’Elanna ran her hands down her grandfather’s face. This is what he’d wanted. He didn’t want her to try to revive him… he wanted to die. It took all the restraint B’Elanna had to not try to interfere, to keep him with her for just a little longer.

Wasn’t there time for another conversation? Couldn’t they just go to the kitchen one last time? How could she practice the _Mok’bara_ alone every morning? Why wasn’t there just another moment for her to tell him how much she loved him?

“ _VavnI’…_ ” Tears rolled down B’Elanna cheeks as she held her grandfather’s face. “Why did you have to die when I’m the only one here? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never performed the death ritual.”

Ma’Leth could no longer help her.

Trying to focus, B’Elanna thought back to her schooling at the Klingon monastery. _You open the dead warrior’s eyes… You yell at the sky… Was there anything else?_

Placing her fingers on his cheeks and brow, B’Elanna pried open Ma’Leth’s eyes. They stared back at her, empty of the warmth they’d once held. Staring into them, B’Elanna could feel the tears falling from her own eyes. Blinking rapidly, B’Elanna threw her head up to the heaven and screamed.

When her lungs had exhausted their air, B’Elanna let go of Ma’Leth’s eyes and sagged against his chest.


	17. Chapter 17

“There are forms you will need to fill out to officially change your house,” Miral said as they entered the house. “That was just a ceremony. We will not be part of the house of Dar’Rok until the paperwork is filed.”

B’Elanna shrugged off the heavy outer layer of the Klingon style dress she’d worn for the house renaming ceremony. Everything was moving in fast-forward – just yesterday her grandfather had died, and today they’d held a ceremony to honor him and transition the house to her uncle. B’Elanna was shocked at how quickly they’d arranged this ceremony – she’d barely had time to process that he was gone.

She’d stood in the sun, sweating in the dress her mother insisted she wear. An engraver had carved Ma’Leth’s name into the family memorial, along with his birth and death dates. Dar’Rok lead them in chants honoring Ma’Leth and speeding him on to _Sto’Vo’Kor_. After Dar’Rok and Miral placed offerings under the freshly carved name, Dar’Rok proclaimed he was head of the house, and anyone who objected should fight him now. They were ritualistic words – no one was going to dispute his claim.

And with that, it was over. The whole affair had only lasted half an hour.

“I still think it’s stupid the house doesn’t go to you.” B’Elanna walked into the main room, having left her outer layer crumpled in the entry way. “You’re the oldest.”

“Women do not head houses in the Empire.”

“But doesn’t that piss you off?”

“I do not think it’s fair. But at the same time, I would not want to lead the house.”

“But you should have the _choice_.”

“I do not disagree.” Miral sat on the couch, dark circles under her eyes. “But I am not going to change the Empire.”

“Not with _that_ attitude.”

Miral took a breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Today is not the day for this, Lanna.”

B’Elanna stopped and stared at her mother. Yesterday, once B’Elanna had collected herself, she’d messaged her mother and uncle, informing them her grandfather had died. Miral had asked if B’Elanna had performed the death ritual. When B’Elanna replied ‘yes’, Miral had informed her that Dar’Rok would see to the body and that she’d be home later.

B’Elanna had stared at the message in disbelief. Her father had just _died_ and she wasn’t going to come home?

“I don’t understand!” B’Elanna had yelled at Dar’Rok when he arrived at the house. “Doesn’t she want to say goodbye?”

“It is just an empty shell. What is there to say goodbye to?”

B’Elanna let out a frustrated growl. “Even if that’s the case, how can she keep on like nothing just happened?”

Dar’Rok headed to Ma’Leth’s room, calling back to his niece as he walked away, “Let her grieve in her own way.”

Now, glaring at her mother, the emotions that had been simmering in B’Elanna for the last day boiled over. “Oh, so when the Empire isn’t perfect you don’t want to talk about it, but you can complain about my human failings all day long!”

“I never said the Empire was perfect! I was trying to guide you in the ways of our people!”

“While shitting on everything that’s human. You do remember I’m half human, don’t you?”

Miral rose, fire in her eyes. “I _never_ tried to make you less human. I shared with you my heritage, _your_ heritage--”

“‘Shared’?” B’Elanna fumed, throwing her hands up in the air. “More like shoved down my throat!”

“You are half Klingon! Yet you dishonor our ways. You _refuse_ to dress like a Klingon; to observe _ghInjaj_. You even refused your Rite of Ascension--”

“Because I don’t want to be a warrior!”

Miral took a step forward, her face near inches from her daughter’s. “It is not only about becoming a warrior; it is about becoming an adult! I did it; was I forced to become a warrior? No! But because it is part of our culture, so you refused to do it! You have been running away from being Klingon your whole life!”

“Maybe if we’d been a little less Klingon, my father wouldn’t have left!”

Silence filled the room. The two stared at each other, breathing heavily. A low growl began emanating from Miral – a noise B’Elanna had never heard her make before. “He left because he was weak! He _abandoned_ us! He has no honor!”

B’Elanna laughed, resuming her pacing. “Honor? He was just as sick of hearing about honor as I am!”

“You still understand nothing about being a Klingon!”

“Thank god! Because evidently being Klingon means you don’t care when people die!”

“What did you just say?” Miral’s voice was cold.

B’Elanna stepped closer to her mother. She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff – she could either back off, go to her room, let them both cool down. Or… “You heard me! None of you seem to give a fuck that _VavnI’_ just died! You didn’t even come home to see him! Did you even love him?”

B’Elanna watched as Miral’s face paled, her eyes turning to ice. _Oh shit._ She’d never seen her mother look like this. “I’m sorry--” B’Elanna began, looking down and crossing her arms.

“Get out.”

B’Elanna’s head jerked up. “What?”

“Get out of my house.”

 _And go where? For how long?_ B’Elanna stammered, “Mom, I’m sorry--”

“You have too much anger in your heart to be sorry,” Miral cut her off. “I am done with you, B’Elanna. I will not stand here and listen to you say I did not love my father. I will not let you dishonor me in this way. Take your anger and leave my house.”

B’Elanna stood there, unsure what to do. Was Miral serious? “Mom--”

“Now!” Miral roared as she pushed past B’Elanna. “Get your things and leave! I want you out within the hour!”

“But…” B’Elanna turned to watch her mom cross the main room, blinking back her tears. “Where will I go?”

“I do not care. Get out of my sight.” Miral slammed the door to her bedroom.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you alright?” Tevi asked.

B’Elanna walked up the gangway of Tevi’s ship, keeping her head down and trying to hold back the tears that had welled in her eyes for the last hour. “Not really.”  

“Why aren’t you at your grandfather’s funeral?” Tevi reached out to grab B’Elanna’s arm as she tried to pass into the freighter. “Why do you have a bag? What happened?”

“She kicked me out. After the funeral, my mom…” B’Elanna swallowed. “She told me to get out.” Tevi released her arm, and B’Elanna walked away, dropping her bag near a bulkhead. “I didn’t know what to do; where else to go… so I messaged you.”

B’Elanna could hear Tevi’s footsteps approaching from behind. “I’m so sorry. You can stay here tonight, if you like. Maybe she’ll have cooled down in the morning. She’s probably upset about her father--”

“No.” B’Elanna cut in. “My mom and I have always fought, but this was different. She meant it when she told me to leave. She won’t want me back tomorrow.” B’Elanna crossed her arms, trying to smash down the urge to cry. “I don’t even want to be on the same planet as her right now.”

There was a pause, then Tevi’s eyes widened as she realized what B’Elanna was getting at. “Oh, no… B’Elanna, you can’t come with me.”

“Why not?” B’Elanna walked away from Tevi -- it was easier to control her emotions if she didn’t look directly at her. “I want to get back to the Federation… you’re going to the Federation.”

“Because I have to cross the border with a hold full of illegal weapons! If I’m caught, you’ll go to jail, too!”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care!” Tevi grabbed B’Elanna by the shoulder to stop her pacing. “You’re upset; don’t do anything rash.”

B’Elanna closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to compose her voice as much as possible. “This was a long time in coming. _VavnI’_ was the only thing holding us together, and now…” She stopped short, letting out a wry laugh. “You know, this has been the story of my life. First my father leaves me. Then I can’t make it at the Academy, and now…” she paused, taking a breath. “And now the last person I could depend on kicks me out.” B’Elanna closed her eyes and let out a long breath, before whispering, “Please, Tevi.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment. _She’s going to say no_. B’Elanna started to think: _where else can I go? What am I going to do?_

“Okay.” Tevi’s voice broke through B’Elanna’s internal panic. “I just hope you don’t regret this.”

A smile tugged at B’Elanna’s mouth, even as her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around Tevi, hugging her tightly.

“I won’t.”

The next day, B’Elanna stared out the viewport, watching as Qo’noS became just another point of light in the inky blackness of space.


	19. Chapter 19

**June 2377**

B’Elanna drew her knees up, wrapping herself tighter in her blanket. The only sounds in Tom’s quarters were the hum of the warp core and her heart thumping in her chest. B’Elanna stared at the letter in her hands, trying to build up the courage to open it. Her uncle had probably read it first -- he wouldn’t send her an angry tirade.

Toby looked at her from where she’d stuffed him next to her leg, and she reached for him. “What if she was still mad?” she asked the targ. “She hadn’t forgiven me when I saw her on the Barge.”  The targ offered no insight into the matter.

B’Elanna took a breath. She could take it. Nothing her mother could say in this letter could be as bad as that last argument.

Holding Toby against her chest, B’Elanna opened the file.

**_Lanna,_ **

**_Today a Starfleet admiral contacted me. The last time someone from Starfleet spoke to me, it was to tell me my daughter was dead -- and today I found out you are alive. It is like a weight has been lifted from my heart that I was not aware was there._ **

**_The man who contacted me was Owen Paris. Since you and his son are mates, he wanted to personally pass on what your ship’s doctor had said about you. He told me that you are the Chief Engineer, that you have saved your ship countless times, and are a respected member of the crew. It pleases me that you have found your place in the universe._ **

**_My daughter, I am not proud of how we left things. The day after that fight, I went to Dar’Rok’s, thinking you would have gone there. I tried messaging you, but I got the response that you were no longer on Qo’noS._ **

**_I did not know what to do. I contacted your Uncle Carl, asking him to call me if you arrived at his house. It was only when Starfleet first told me you were missing, that I learned what had happened to you after you left. I do not fully understand how you got involved with the fight against the Cardassians, but it is noble to fight for a people weaker than yourself. So, I accepted it._ **

**_I suspected you were dead long before Starfleet declared it. After it was official, Carl contacted me, saying they wished to hold a funeral for you. We had already carved your name in the family shrine, but I wished to honor your human spirit, as well._ **

**_Your father was at the gathering. Evidently, he was the one that wanted the funeral but was afraid to contact me. His fear was well founded -- I wanted to cut him down when I first saw him. But we talked and he apologized for what had happened and tried to explain. He suffers from severe depression, he learned recently, and went through a particularly bad episode when you were around five, after his father died. I do not understand all the details, and I cannot forgive what he did to us, but he told me it is a brain illness that convinced him we were better off without him. When he told me the symptoms, and that it can be hereditary, it made me think of you. I do not know if you have this illness, but some of your behaviors when you were with me on Qo’noS were similar to how your father acted before he left. Therefore, I wanted to inform you of what he told me, so you would know this enemy and be able to fight it._ **

**_I’ve written a lot of words while avoiding what actually needs to be said. I am sorry about that fight we had. I should never have told you to leave the house. I was upset about my father and -- I will not mince words -- you hurt me. You hurt me very much by saying I did not love him. And I lashed out at you. I have regretted my actions that day for a very long time._ **

**_My child, know that I always loved you. Even in that moment, when I was angrier at you than I had ever been before, I still loved you. And I am proud of the woman you have become. I look forward to hearing about your life and I hope you will be home soon so we may speak in person._ **

**_Mom_ **

Tears clouded her vision as she read the last lines. Her mom was sorry about that fight? It was so unlike the woman she remembered -- or the woman she’d seen on the Barge of the Dead – that B’Elanna could hardly believe the letter was true. Had she misjudged her mother that badly? Or had time changed her?

Time had certainly changed B’Elanna.

She skimmed back over the paragraph about her father. So that’s where she’d gotten this lovely character trait. B’Elanna sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she wondered if she _had_ been depressed those six months on Qo’noS. It wasn’t like what she experienced after the Maquis died… but maybe? And what if she’d gotten this letter back then? Could she have avoided the whole depressive episode?

This letter… B’Elanna took a breath. There wasn’t a word about what was happening in Miral’s life. Maybe she’d thought there would be time for that later -- that there would be more letters.

B’Elanna could feel the tears threatening again. _There’s no use crying over this_ , she told herself. _She wouldn’t want me to cry._ Biting her lip, B’Elanna wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her red pajamas and set the computer terminal back on the table. She then curled up on the couch, drawing the blanket up to her shoulder and holding Toby tight to her chest.

She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.


	20. Chapter 20

**May 2381**

“Mommy, Daddy, look! It’s my name!”

B’Elanna watched Tom kneel next to Miral, giving her a hug from behind. “It is,” he said, pointing at the rest of the inscription. “Can you read the rest?”

Miral scrunched her nose as she considered the words on the marble shrine. “No.”

“ _Puqbe’_ L’Naan,” Tom read, his finger tracing the carved letters as he spoke.

“Do you remember your full Klingon name?” B’Elanna asked as she walked up behind her husband and daughter.

Miral turned at her mother’s voice. “Miral _puqbe’_ B’Elanna!” She then turned back to the wall. “Why is my name on the wall?”

“It’s not your name,” Tom explained. “It’s _SoSnI'_ Miral’s name. This is her shrine.”

“Oh.” Miral nodded, though B’Elanna wasn’t sure her three-year-old understood the significance of the place.

Three years… had it really been that long since they’d gotten home? She could remember holding Miral as an infant in her arms, discussing with Tom when a good time to go to Qo’noS would be. But then months – years – had passed, and something new would throw a hurdle between her and making the trip to the Klingon Empire: the prospect of traveling with an infant, the uncertainty about their futures in the Alpha Quadrant, her enrollment in a master’s program.

But all that was behind her now. She supposed late was better than never.

They’d arrived on Qo’noS yesterday and made their way to that house B’Elanna had lived in all those years ago. They were staying in a different part of the compound -- one of Dar’Rok’s daughters lived in the house that was once hers. But for this she was glad. She didn’t know if she could have stood staying in that house, with the ghosts of her mother and grandfather haunting her.

Tom rose, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. Even though they’d waited until evening to come to the shrine, it was still unbearably hot. “What do you need to do?” he asked.

B’Elanna set down the bag she’d been carrying on her shoulder. A puff of red dirt swirled up from the ground. “I have to light some candles and say a prayer. That’s it.” B’Elanna knelt, pulled the _Var'Hama_ candles from the bag and set them before her mother’s name.

“Miral, come here,” Tom called. The little girl had wandered to the other side of the shrine. “We are going to honor _SoSnI'_ now.”

B’Elanna heard the patter of her daughter’s footsteps across the dirt. She could remember doing this prayer with her mother, at this shrine, after her _SoSnI'_ had died. Miral had knelt, arranging the candles and picking up a match before turning to B’Elanna. “Do you want to light them?” she’d asked. B’Elanna had nodded. Her mother had struck the match, handing it to B’Elanna, who’d lit the candles while Miral had begun the prayer.

B’Elanna now turned to her daughter. “Do you want to help me light the candles?”

Miral nodded, a huge grin on her face, as she trotted over to B’Elanna. Holding Miral’s hand on the lighter, B’Elanna lit the two large candles, and then sat back on her feet, holding her daughter against her chest.

Would Miral do this for her one day? The Lament of the Daughter? Would she hold her own child in her arms and say the words, honoring B’Elanna and wishing her glory in the Eternal Battle?

B’Elanna could feel a lump in her throat and tried to swallow it away. “I come here today,” she began in Klingon, “as the daughter of a great woman, Miral, daughter--” Her voice caught. She hugged Miral tighter. “Daughter of L’Naan. I come today to speak of her honor--” her voice snagged again, and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes. _No!_ she yelled at herself. _Keep it together! Your mother did this without breaking down, so can you!_

B’Elanna took a deep breath. “Her honor and her deeds so--” a sob shook her body, and she hastily wiped at the tears. “So my mother--” she tried again, but felt Tom’s hand clasp her shoulder.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears she hadn’t cried for her mother in six years flooded out. B’Elanna’s chest heaved, and she clung to Miral, pressing the little girl against her chest.

Miral squirmed in her mother’s arms. “Mommy? Why are you sad?” 

B’Elanna tried to respond, but couldn’t get any words out. Tom dropped to his knees and took her in his arms.

“Mommy’s sad because she misses her mommy.” Tom was rubbing B’Elanna’s back as he spoke to their child.

“Oh,” Miral replied. “I’m sorry, Mommy.” B’Elanna felt her daughter give her a kiss, which only made her cry harder.

“Just let it out,” Tom whispered, holding her tight. “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” B’Elanna finally got out.

Tom kissed her on the side of the head. “Because you miss her.”

B’Elanna buried her face against Tom’s neck. Was that it? She’d lived eleven years without her mother’s presence and had never cried like this. How could ‘missing her’ be why she was sitting in the dirt, sobbing like a child?

“I wish she could see me now. I wish she could see what I’ve become and that she could meet Miral.” She bit back another sob. “Why couldn’t she see me graduate? Why didn’t she get to see any of this?”

Tom rocked her gently. “I don’t know. But I know she would have been so proud of you.”

“Even while blubbering in the dirt in front of her shrine?” B’Elanna sniffled, pulling back from Tom.

Tom let out a little laugh, reaching out to wipe a tear from her face. “She’d be happy you were saying the Lament for her.”

B’Elanna took a breath, trying to compose herself. Tom was right. She would be happy. Miral would be happy her daughter had returned home, ready to say those Klingon prayers she’d rejected in her youth. Her mother would have smiled at B’Elanna teaching her own daughter Klingon and the importance of their customs. And she was sure her mother would have been overjoyed they had named Miral for her.

She grabbed Tom’s hand, pulling him close as she turned back to the shrine. With the other arm, she drew Miral against her chest.

Tears still falling from her eyes, B’Elanna continued the Lament.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t come up with the name Isela, it’s from First Impressions by Ruchira (which is available on FFN and you should go read it). Several other stories I’ve written were referenced in this one, specifically: Letters Home, The Sea of Gatan, and The Flying Buttress.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone that left (or will leave) comments and kudos. I love to know that people are reading my work.


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